


Sure Thing

by Anogete



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: F/M, Music, NHL RPF, Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh Penguins, Post-Divorce, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-09 03:05:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 54,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13472403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anogete/pseuds/Anogete
Summary: Paul Martin thinks the girl who works at his local Starbucks and serves him coffee is pretty cute.  Cam has a crush on the slightly nerdy-looking guy who parks himself in the corner armchair a few times a week during her shift.  It isn't until they start getting to know one another that they realize maybe they're both being a little less than forthcoming about their passions and careers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted on Mibba in January 2015. I've dusted it off, fixed some errors/typos, and condensed about 22 chapters into 6 longer ones. This is an effort to make it easier to read and avoid blowing up notifications for anyone who happens to be subscribed to me.
> 
> As with most of my stuff, it's a romance that focuses on the budding relationship between two people. This was written during Paul Martin's fairly long stint with the Pittsburgh Penguins, but he was traded to another team shortly after. If you're not familiar with hockey, I urge you to give it a chance anyway. It can easily be read as an original romance.
> 
> Several songs are referenced in the text. I tried to link YouTube videos of all of them if you'd like to listen as you read. Listening is not necessary, but might enhance your enjoyment of the fic.
> 
> If you do give it a go, I hope you enjoy it. I'd love to hear from you by comment on the fic, notes/messages on Tumblr (anogete), or email (anogete527@yahoo.com). Drop me a line; I don't bite.

He usually went to Starbucks two or three times a week. Paul knew it was a bad habit and a total waste of money, but there was just something relaxing about the ritual of it. He’d throw his iPad and a book in the old green messenger bag he’d had for years and drive five minutes down the road to a small Starbucks that was nestled in a strip mall. The place was rarely busy, especially when he walked in after the work crowd cleared out.

The dark roast with a little bit of Stevia was his go-to drink, but sometimes he’d indulge in a cappuccino if he was in the mood for a different flavor. If it was a warm day, then he’d ask for the coffee on ice. He didn’t mind dropping fifteen or twenty bucks a week on coffee when it gave him the pleasure of unwinding for an hour or so, reading news on his iPad or trying to squeeze in two or three chapters of a book. He really thought he should read more, but with his busy schedule it was hard. Or maybe he just made excuses for himself. It wasn’t like he couldn’t take the book with him when they were on the road.

The girl who poured his coffee or whipped up his cappuccino almost every day was really cute. He told himself that had nothing to do with why he enjoyed getting coffee at Starbucks, but that was probably just another excuse like the one he made for not reading as much as he should. She was definitely a reason he parked his SUV in front of Starbucks and not in front of any other place that sells coffee.

His chair was free this morning. For some reason it irritated him when someone was sitting in his armchair of choice. It was in the corner with a low table just beside it. If he looked ahead, he could gaze out the window at the traffic rolling by and if he looked to the right, he could see her making drinks with ridiculous efficiently. He’d watch her when she wasn’t looking. The economy of motion was pretty amazing. No step was wasted and everything was in perfect sequence. There was something very impressive about the way she did it all with grace.

“Here you go, professor,” she said, sliding his cup across the counter toward him. She always left the lid off because she knew he’d dump a packet of Stevia in. He already had it ready in his hand. Tearing the edge of the packet, he poured in the crystals and gave it a swish with one of the plastic stirrers sitting by the sugar and creamer. When he turned to dispose of the stirrer in the trash, she popped the lid on the cup and gave him a smile.

Paul smiled back and slipped the cup off the counter. Today it was the dark roast and the latest edition of USA Hockey. She probably thought he read literary magazines or Scientific American since she called him professor all the time. It had started about three months ago when she’d commented on his weekly schedule and how she saw him more than her own mother. Paul thought it was probably weird that he didn’t know her name, and he felt a little relieved that she didn’t know his. Or at least she didn’t seem to. He was just another boring guy who camped out in the corner chair with his iPad.

He settled in and pulled up the magazine on his tablet. She was making a mocha latte. Never mind that he’d heard the woman behind him order it, he knew what she was making because he’d watched her do it dozens of times before. She was on the short side--maybe five foot three or five foot four. Her hair was long, dark, and sleek, but she usually wore it in a ponytail. Her flawless, tan skin went well with her dark hair. When she smiled, her white teeth popped and her rosy lips framed them nicely. Her body was something he tried to avoid thinking about. That was easy enough because the black pants and company shirt that was a size too big hid things well, even though he could tell he’d like what was underneath.

Paul shook his head and forced his eyes back down to the screen of his iPad. Why did she call him professor? Was that good or bad?

* * *

Cam thought the guy who came in two or three times a week and got the dark roast with the Stevia was really damn cute. He always wore jeans or athletic pants with a hoodie. Sometimes he’d have on a baseball cap, and most of the time he wore glasses. The glasses were what hooked her and made her want to curl up in his lap in that oversized armchair while he read Charles Dickens to her and she played with his messy reddish blonde hair.

He was a mystery. She didn’t know his name or what he did, but he drove a nice vehicle, and he always looked tidy and in no hurry. Maybe an entrepreneur or consultant. He probably wasn’t really a professor or he’d be teaching classes at nine o’clock on a Tuesday morning. Or he’d be sitting in a coffee shop in Oakland down by the Pitt campus. But he sure as hell looked like one of those young professors that all the girls have a crush on, so she’d taken to calling him professor. He didn’t seem to mind. He’d just give her that enigmatic smile that made her wonder if he thought she was silly or if he thought she was cute.

It irritated her that she hoped he thought she was cute. She was on hiatus from men. The sixty-seven year old nurse who lived in the apartment below her had caught her in the laundromat two days ago and they’d talked about how men are just bad for you in general. Cam wasn’t quite as jaded as her neighbor, but she’d been around the block and learned the hard way that love doesn’t conquer all and sometimes a good thing can go to hell. It wasn’t long after the divorce that she’d stuffed her wedding band into the bottom of her jewelry box. She pawned the engagement ring, but something made her hold on to that damn wedding band.

“Here you go,” she told the two men in suits who were waiting for their coffee. They nodded in thanks and set up their laptops and notepads over at the largest table in the tiny shop. Unable to help herself, she glanced over at the professor. His eyes shifted down to his iPad quickly like he’d been watching her. Cam turned her back and used a damp cloth to wipe down the counter. The thrill that shot through her at the idea that he’d been watching just made her mad at herself. Men always fucked things up. She was in the second year of self discovery.

When things had ended with Jim, she’d been looking for guidance and found some article on the internet that said for every five years in a relationship, you needed to take two years to yourself to recover from the breakup. If you counted the seven months of dating, she’d been with Jim for seven years. Rounding up, that meant she needed two years to do Cam. And she’d only had one year and two months. She had ten more to go before the professor was an option.

* * *

“Ouch, where’d you get the shiner, professor?” she asked him when she sat the cup of dark roast on the counter. The bruise was dark purple and blossomed out from his eye to extend down over this cheekbone.

He chuckled softly under his breath while he dumped the packet of Stevia into the cup. “Rough day at the office,” he replied, sliding his gaze up to her and then back down to his cup when she popped the lid on.

“Some office,” she said. “You want some ice?”

“No, I’m good. It’s a couple days old anyway.” He wrapped his fingers around the cup and pulled it toward him. “Thanks, though.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” she said, watching him as he walked over to his chair and settled in with a book. It took her five minutes of covert glances before she was able to make out the title. _Choke_ by Chuck Palahniuk. She’d never read it, but Chuck Palahniuk was the bee's knees according to her lit professor during the college years.

Cam leaned on the counter and stared out the window, wondering who the professor was. Guys like him didn’t just get black eyes. He looked like the type who had a writing desk at home and never left dishes in the sink. He wasn’t a scrapper or a thug that got into bar fights. Glancing over at him, she ran her gaze over the black eye and his strong nose to the reddish blonde stubble that covered his jaw and upper lip. She skipped down to the black hoodie and the Adidas pants. So, he didn’t totally look like a professor with the clothes and the black eye. Maybe it was because he wasn’t wearing glasses today.

“Hey,” she said. The other two people across the room looked up, but she didn’t notice since his eyes had locked with hers when she’d called out to him. “Don’t tell me your girlfriend punched your lights out.”

He smiled and shook his head, adjusting the book in his heads. “No, no girlfriend.”

“Wife?”

“No wife.”

“Oh, boyfriend then,” she said with a grin.

He laughed and shook his head again. “Definitely no boyfriend.”

Cam gave a shrug and turned away so she could clean the small stack of dishes in the sink. So, he was single. That was all she could think about. Cute professor with the great taste in literature, the sexy glasses, and messy hair was single. And he had a killer smile and a really nice voice--a little nerdy with just enough rasp to make it alluring.

Not dating for ten more months, she reminded herself. Although, if the professor were to walk over and ask her out, she might not be able to say no. Maybe he’d read to her in bed. Cam glanced over her shoulder at him again. He was tall--at least six feet--with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Yeah, he could read to her in bed.

* * *

Paul was a little disappointed when he walked in and there was another girl at the counter. Sometimes his girl wasn’t working when he came in and someone else got him coffee. They never did it as well because they’d always put the lid on before they gave him the cup. Most of them usually filled the cup too much or too little, as well. Not like her. She did it perfectly.

After he paid and tossed the Stevia into the coffee, he turned around to walk over to his chair. It was occupied. Mentally, he groaned in annoyance. The other chair by the window was second best because there wasn’t a table next to it for his coffee. A fraction of a second after the flash of annoyance, he realized something very important. It wasn’t just anyone in his chair; it was HER.

She grinned and drummed her fingers against the arms of the chair. “I know you hate it when someone’s in your spot so I thought I’d mess with you.”

Paul couldn’t help but smile back at her. “You should be nicer to customers,” he said.

“I’m plenty nice to you, professor. See,” she told him, standing up, “I saved your seat.”

He walked over to stand beside her and pulled his messenger bag over his head before placing the coffee on the side table. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“What’s today’s book?” she asked, tidying up the two tables closest to them.

“ _Choke_ by Palahniuk,” he said, pulling it out of his bag and holding it up.

“You’ve been reading that for a week, professor,” she said, walking over to the trash can by the door and pulling the bag out.

“How do you know?” Paul asked. He’d actually been reading it for a month, but he’d never mentioned it to her. Their conversations were pretty much limited to a couple sentences maybe two or three times a week.

“I’m observant,” she told him, tying the bag up and pulling a new one out of the bottom of the can.

He sat down on the edge of the chair. “It takes me forever to finish a book. I feel guilty because I should read more.”

“Me too. Anything you recommend?” She stood a few feet away with her hands on her hips. Paul felt his eyes sliding down her body, taking in her slight build. Her breasts were a good handful each and her waist pinched in before her hips flared out. He could just imagine how nice her ass looked in those black slacks she wore almost every day.

“Ummm,” he said, fumbling for an answer to hide the fact that he’d been shamelessly checking her out. Was she hitting on him? Was she interested? Ever since his first NHL game, he’d never went on a date with a girl who didn’t know what he did for a living. Partly because those were the girls who were interested and partly because he didn’t think his career was a fair thing to spring on someone.

“Ummm?” she asked. “What? No book recommendation from the professor?” The right slide of her mouth was pulled up in a smirk. When you coupled that with her hands on her hips, she looked sexy as hell.

“ _Pontypool Changes Everything_ by Anthony Burgess,” he blurted out. It wasn’t his favorite book, but it was a good book. And it was the last one he’d finished so it was fresh in his mind.

“What’s it about?”

“A shock jock radio guy and an aural virus that turns people into murders.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “I’ll have to download that to my Kindle when I get home. Sounds fun.”

Paul settled back into his chair when she picked the trash bag up and took it out the side door to the dumpster. Before he took a sip of his coffee, he leaned forward again and called out to the other girl behind the counter. “Are you replacing her?”

The girl shook her head. “No, I have classes during the days. She’s training me to work the evening shift.”

“Oh, okay,” he replied, settling back again. Good, his brain added. He liked seeing her a few times a week. Even if he didn’t know her name. Even if he had a crush on her that he’d never do anything about.

* * *

It was a slow day. Wednesdays usually were. The professor hadn’t been around since last week. Cam couldn’t get him out of her head. He wasn’t the traditionally hot guy like Brad Pitt or Chris Evans, but there was something about him that made him ridiculously attractive. Maybe it was the wide shoulders or the ginger hair or the glasses or the way he enunciated words. The more she heard him talk, the more she could hear a vague mid-western accent. She’d never been good at placing accents, but he definitely wasn’t from Pittsburgh.

She laid her upper body on the counter and rested her head on her folded arms. It was going to be a long day. When the bell on the door dinged, she jerked up. It wouldn’t be good if customers caught her slacking. Her stomach jumped into her throat when he walked in looking so deliciously familiar. He was in a pair of jeans and a blue Penguins hoodie. The green messenger bag was hanging casually off his shoulder and resting against his opposite hip.

“Dark roast, professor?” she asked, trying to play it cool when she was really excited to see him.

“Maybe a cappuccino? I’m feeling like something a little different today.” He pulled out his wallet.

Cam chewed on her lower lip as she watched his long fingers pull a ten dollar bill out. You do not want to date him, she kept telling herself. Ten more months. You’re finding yourself.

“Any flavor?”

He scrunched his nose up. “No, just regular.”

“Grande?”

“Please.”

She took his money and handed the change off before she turned around to make his drink. It only took a minute, but she could feel his eyes on her the entire time. Cam wondered if he was interested. He’d always been pleasant to her; she never got the impression he wanted a date or anything. Not that she was dating nowadays. She was NOT dating.

He never put Stevia in the cappuccinos when he ordered them, so she put a lid on the cup and sat it down on the semi-circular counter where the beverages were delivered. He’d walked over to meet her there while she was working.

“Slow today?” he asked.

“Very. It was dead for twenty minutes before you walked in.”

“Guess you should be glad I walked in then,” he said with a small smile.

Cam returned it. “Oh, I am. Believe me.” She pushed the cup toward him. “Enjoy.”

“I will. Thanks.” He took it over to his chair. That’s how she thought of it now--as his chair. Today he was reading the iPad. She wondered if he’d started a new book. She was already fifty pages into the book he’d recommended to her last week. It was good, not that she thought the professor would read a book that wasn’t.

After ten minutes of silence, she spoke up and said, “The Anthony Burgess book is good.”

He put the iPad down and looked up at her. “You got it?”

“Sure. I should read more anyway.”

The professor nodded. “Cool. I’m glad you like it.”

“How’s the cappuccino?” she asked when he took a sip.

“Perfect.” After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “How long have you worked here?”

Cam didn’t even have to think about it. “A year.”

“You like it?”

“It pays the bills,” she replied. She’d walked in and applied a couple months after her divorce. Not only did it help pay the bills, it also gave her health insurance even though she only worked about thirty or thirty-five hours a week. After the divorce, she’d been cut off of Jim’s insurance and in the position of fending for herself for the first time in years.

“You’re good at it,” the professor said. “I mean, well, I don’t mean for that to sound patronizing. It’s just, when you’re making drinks, you’re very efficient.”

She walked around the counter to stand in front of the register so she could see him better. “Efficient?” Was that a compliment or an insult? She was doing menial labor making chai lattes for stay-at-home moms who lived in the neighborhood.

The professor shook his head. “I watch you sometimes. It’s... relaxing. I hope that doesn’t sound weird.”

Cam leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. He watched her, did he? “It does sound weird.”

His cheeks flushed a bit. He was so pale it’d be hard for him to hide the blush. “Sorry. I just... I like routine and efficiency. Economy of motion. I admire the way you make drinks. This is sounder weirder isn’t it?”

She laughed and nodded. “Yeah, it’s sounding pretty weird, professor.”

“Maybe I’m a weird guy,” he replied with a shrug.

“Nothing wrong with being weird,” Cam said before returning to her spot behind the counter. So, the professor had thoughts about her. She wondered if he liked Italian food. And then she remembered that she wasn’t dating. Nine and a half more months before she realized her full potential as a single woman.

* * *

Morning skate was due to start at ten-thirty which meant he had time to spend an hour in Starbucks. He’d gone in on Friday and Saturday, but the place was busy both days. She had been waiting on the steady stream of customers who had been filtering through the door, and he hadn’t been able to talk to her.

After they got back from two games in Florida on Sunday and Monday, he decided to try again on Wednesday. Last Wednesday had been slow. They’d had the longest conversation ever then. He walked in the door and swept the room with his eyes. No one. Yes. The small room was empty. Unfortunately, she wasn’t anywhere in sight either.

“Can I help...” she started to ask, popping up from behind the counter. Her question trailed off when she saw him. “Hi there, professor.”

“Hi,” he said, walking up to the counter. Paul didn’t know why he felt nervous. He wasn’t going to ask her or out or anything. He just liked talking to her. Probably because she was cute and sassy and had gorgeous brown eyes with long lashes.

“I’m breaking protocol,” she told him. “Don’t rat me out to management.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sick of this Indigo Girls and John Mayer shit. I’m going to start eating granola, grow armpit hair, and take up the guitar.” She disappeared behind the counter again. Paul put his hands on the countertop and leaned forward. He could see the small of her back between the waistband of her black slacks and the hem of her shirt as it rode up while she was bent over.

The music cut off for a moment before it restarted. “Finally,” she said, standing up and almost knocking her head into his chin. “Woah, sorry.”

Paul jerked back into his own space. And then he realized she’d put on a hip-hop station. The beat was prominent and the vocals were half-sung, half-rapped in a smooth voice. “This?” he asked, taken aback by her choice.

“Yeah, much better.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I am not surprised the professor does not approve of Lloyd. I’ll have you know he’s one of my favorites.”

Paul shook his head. “Just sounds like noise.”

She smiled and put her hands on her hips. “So much judgement, professor. Do you want your coffee or not?”

“Yes, please.”

He watched her pour a cup of dark roast. She plucked a packet of Stevia out of a bowl behind the counter and dumped it in for him before giving it a stir. “Just the way you like it,” she said, handing it over. His fingertips brushed against hers when he took the cup from her. “And on the house as long as you don’t say anything about me changing the music.

“Yeah, I’ll keep your dirty little secret,” he said, walking over to his chair.

“Do you really not like this?” she asked, moving to standing where he’d been in front of the counter.

Paul sat his messenger bag on the side table and took a sip of the coffee. It was better than it had ever been. Maybe that was just in his head. Or maybe she had the magic touch since she’d never added Stevia for him before. “Not my kind of music,” he finally said. Truth be told, he was a little put off that she liked it. She’d been perfect up until then.

“You just haven’t heard the right songs, then.”

“I don’t know about that.”

She raised her brows. “I’ll convert you one day.”

“I’d like to see you try,” he said, adjusting his glasses on his nose. She smiled at him and gave him a wink. Paul couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face.

* * *

There was a woman working on a laptop with her baby sleeping in a car seat next to her. And there was an older guy reading a paper at the table near the bathroom. He was glad his chair was available. He wasn’t glad he wouldn’t be alone with her again this Saturday morning. He’d come early in hopes that he’d get to talk to her. They didn’t have morning skate for another three hours.

She poured his cup of coffee before he even opened his mouth. “What if I wanted a cappuccino?” he asked, taking the cup from her after she’d added Stevia.

She rolled her eyes. “You had that a few days ago. You never get a cappuccino more than once a month. So predictable, professor.”

She paid attention to him. It made him feel oddly proud. Paul paid her for the coffee with a smile on his face. Before he could turn and walk over to his chair, she leaned forward and said, “Are you ready to be converted?” in a low voice.

“Converted to what?” he asked.

“To a person with good taste in music.”

His bark of laughter was abrupt. Both the other patrons of the store looked up at him before returning to their laptop and newspaper. “Your taste is questionable.”

“Tell me you have a pair of headphones in that bag of yours.”

“I do,” he said cautiously.

She produced a small iPod Nano from her pocket. It had seen better days and looked to be several years old. “No judgement until you listen. There’s only one song and I picked it since it has a little jazzy influence. You seem like you intellectualize music too much so I thought it might appeal.”

Paul took the iPod from her with a smile. “I’ll give it a shot.”

“Be fair, professor. Just because you don’t love it doesn’t mean it isn’t good music.”

He settled into his chair and pulled the earbuds out of the small pocket on the front of his bag where they lived. The curiosity over what song she’d given him was almost too much to bear. Forcing himself not to rush, he plugged the earbuds in and took a sip of the coffee before pressing play and closing his eyes.

Within a minute he was bobbing his head just the slightest bit. It was funky and jazzy and smooth with a laid back feel. He didn’t like the music that was too in-your-face and frantic. This wasn’t bad. The screen told him that the name of the song was Chicken Grease. While D’Angelo was a familiar name, he’d never listened to any of the guy’s songs.

Paul looked up to the counter and found that she was leaning forward with her chin resting on her open palm, watching him with a faint smile on her face. When his gaze met hers, she broke out with a full grin and stuck up her thumb. He couldn’t stop himself from returning her smile and nodding.

She pushed herself off the counter and threw in her arms in the air in victory. Shaking his head, Paul closed his eyes and let the song finish. Maybe he liked it because she liked it. Because the more he talked to her, the more he liked her.

* * *

She hadn’t seen him for almost a week, not since the Saturday morning that she’d loaned him her iPod so she could convince him he at least could tolerate D’Angelo. Sure, it wasn’t exactly hip-hop, but it was one of her favorites. Anything with a good beat and a hot bass line was okay in her book. Normally he came in two or three times a week. She never could figure his schedule out. Some days he was walking in the door at seven-thirty. Some days he was strolling in around ten in the morning for a late cup of dark roast. And there wasn’t one day of the week he was consistent. For such a routine-oriented guy, he sure didn’t stick to a predictable schedule.

Maybe he’d moved. Maybe he’d decided he hated coffee. Maybe that was for the best. Because she still had nine months of alone-time before she was officially allowed to date, and he was too tempting for her to turn down if he ever asked her out. Sometimes she thought he was flirting with her a little and then the next minute he’d be staring at the screen of the damn iPad, the glare reflecting off those stuffy glasses.

The place was quiet for a Thursday. The morning rush had ended around eight-thirty, which left her alone to reorganize the little box of CDs on the counter for the hundredth time. All of it was crap. Just like the crap that was playing over the internet radio the manager insisted they pipe through the joint.

Motion outside caught her interest. A black SUV with gorgeous, spotless rims pulled in three spots from the door. She could barely make out his face through the sun glare. It sent a thrill through her that he was back and she was alone.

The bruise that had been on his face was almost gone; just the very faintest of yellow tinged the skin under his eye. You’d have never known he had a shiner a couple weeks back. “Welcome back, professor,” she said. “Dark roast?”

The messenger bag bounced against his hip as he stepped up to the counter. He was in jeans and a Buccos hoodie. The usual attire. He made it look really good, though, especially with his red-blonde hair looking like he’d just rolled out of bed. “Let’s try something different.”

Cam raised her brows. “Oh, yeah? Getting adventurous, are you?”

“Sure, why not?” he replied. She watched as he looked up at the menu over her head. “What do you recommend?” he asked.

She laughed under her breath and shook her head. “You’ve been ordering the same two things for months. Are you sure you want to take this big step into the unknown?”

“You pick,” he confirmed, the corner of his mouth lifting up.

“Hmmm,” Cam mused, turning around to look up at the board. “How about a cafe breve? I know you don’t like the super sweet stuff.”

“How do you know I don’t like the super sweet stuff?”

She turned around and looked at him. He was smiling. Part of her hoped he was working up to asking her out, even if she wasn’t allowed. “Because you never order it. A guy doesn’t go from dark roast and a plain cappuccino to flavored lattes.”

“I don’t see cafe breve on the menu.”’

“It’s not, but I can make you one,” she said, winking at him. She needed to stop flirting. He was just too damn cute to pass up.

He nodded his acceptance and leaned on the counter to watch her as she made the drink. She put an extra shot of espresso in it for him because he looked really good with his arms resting on the counter and his shoulders hunched up around his ears.

Once the half and half was heated up to the right temperature and looking frothy enough, she poured the espresso on top and let it sink into the cream. It was a more decadent drink that he usually ordered. The half and half made it fattening and sweeter than what the professor was used to, but he was still smiling when she turned around and sat the cup on the counter.

“That looks good,” he said.

“It is. But don’t drink it everyday or you’ll lose your hot body. That half and half will do a number on you.”

He stood up and dipped his head to look down at the floor as he laughed. He looked a little shy and a lot handsome. The professor pulled a his wallet out and paid, dropping the change--well over five bucks--into the tip jar on the counter before he went over to settle into his chair.

Cam went back to to tidy up and wipe down the steam wand, thinking about why she was punishing herself with another nine months of dateless nights when she’d been over Jim by the time six months had passed. Things had been going downhill with him over the last year of their marriage. When she found out he’d been having an affair with one of his coworkers, she knew it was over. There was no saving it, no couple’s counseling, no one-more-chance. The idea of touching him made her want to vomit.

During the first six months, she’d had no desire to see anyone. No sex drive either. After the healing had started, she had those moments of loneliness at night sometimes, but it really wasn’t all that bad. Her sex drive happened to appear right around the time the professor had started walking in her door a few times a week with his athletic build and his messy hair and his glasses. She’d been entertaining fantasies of sitting on his lap and taking those glasses off before kissing him. Sometimes he seemed so buttoned up that she knew he’d probably be a tiger in the sack.

“This is amazing.”

Cam jumped at the sound of his voice. She turned around to look at him. He was sitting forward in the chair and holding up the cup. “Yeah?” she asked.

“Yeah. I’ve never had one before. I think I’m in trouble.”

She laughed. “Well, professor, I only make those on special occasions. When’s your birthday?”

“In a month. March fifth.”

“I’ll make you one for your birthday.”

“Deal,” he replied, sitting back into the chair and picking up his iPad.

* * *

He’d been thinking about her for days. It felt like the first half of the season had been heavy on the home games and now he was always on the road. He didn’t get back into Starbucks until Tuesday. The morning rush was long gone because it was already ten o’clock. She was behind the counter, eyes closed, nodding her head to a song he’d never heard before. The place was empty and the music was louder than it probably should have been.

The vocals were female and slightly raspy in a sexy way. The singer was talking about how she only wanted to give it to this one particular guy. His crush behind the counter was moving her lips in time to each word. Seeing her lips frame those words made him think the song was actually really damn good.

“Did you get sick of the Indigo Girls again?” he asked.

She almost jumped up in the air in shock as her eyes popped open. Instead, she slapped a hand over her chest and spun away from him. When she turned back around she was laughing. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Paul said, smiling.

“I thought I wasn’t going to get to see you today.”

“You think about seeing me?”

She looked at him through her dark lashes, and he almost asked her out on a date right then and there. Girls didn’t look at you like that if they weren’t interested. Maybe she thought he was worth some more of her time.

“You’re the best conversation in this place,” she said.

“That’s pretty bad,” Paul replied.

The song faded out and another started. It didn’t sound nearly as good as the one that had just finished. There was rapping and autotune and a guy talking about how hot a girl was. She seemed to like it, though. Her head was bouncing up and down to the beat, moving her shoulders just the slightest bit. That just moved her chest and made her breasts more noticeable. “This is a ridiculously bad song, but I love it,” she finally told him.

“Yeah, it is,” Paul said, agreeing. “Glad it isn’t fooling you.”

“Sometimes, professor, songs are so terrible that you have to love them. Are you drinking coffee today?”

“Please.”

She poured it in a grande cup and dumped a packet of Stevia inside. He watched as she stirred it before putting the lid on top. He’d seen her do it so many times and he was still fascinated with the way she moved, especially with that heavy beat of the music coming out of the speakers. The guy singing the song kept asking a girl to put it down on him. Paul wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but he knew he probably wanted her to do that.

While he pulled his wallet out, she disappeared behind the counter. The music abruptly cut off and started again, but it was just the usual station that played non-offensive, background music.

“You didn’t have to turn it off for me,” he said.

She shrugged. “I’ll get in trouble if they know I changed the station. It’s for my own good.”

She handed his change back, and he dropped it right into the tip jar. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Some days he spent twenty bucks on a coffee. He hoped she didn’t think that was weird. “Thanks,” he said, picking the coffee up and retreating to his chair.

Before he could get out his iPad and pull up his mom’s email, she was sitting on the table a few feet away. “Hi,” Paul croaked, wondering what she was up to.

“I don’t know your name,” she said.

“Oh.” Paul racked his brain. Had he ever given her his name? Obviously she didn’t recognize him or she would have said something by now. “Paul. My name is Paul.”

“Paul,” she replied, like she was tasting the flavor of his name in her mouth. “Paaaaullll. I like it. Fits you.”

“Uh, thanks,” he said with a chuckle. “I don’t know your name either.”

“Do you call me the Starbucks girl in your head?”

He laughed. “No. I just call you ‘her’.”

Her laughter was sweet and genuine. “Oh, boy. That sounds like it could be a bad thing. Her. Ewww, her.”

“Not at all. I like you.”

“I’m Camila. But I don’t like my name, so I just go by Cam.”

“Cam,” Paul repeated. For some reason it fit. Camila or Cam. Both matched and both worked. “Nice to meet you, Cam.”

She pushed herself off the table and stood up, hands on her hips in that sexy, sassy way she had. “Nice to meet you, Paul.”

He searched his brain for something to say. If he didn’t say something, she’d walk back over to the counter and leave him alone with his mom’s e-mail. He needed to keep her talking. “So, did you finish the Anthony Burgess novel? [i]Pontypool Changes Everything[/i]?”

Cam perked up. “Ooh, I did. It was really good. Different, weird, but good. Thanks, professor. Or, thanks, Paul.”

He loved the way she said his name. There was something about the puff of air on the P that made him think of sex. Of them in his bed, her on her back and her dark air spread all over his pillow.

“I’m, uh, yeah, I’m glad you liked it,” he finally blurted, the fantasy distracting him momentarily.

“You don’t really teach do you? I’m off base on the professor thing, right?”

Paul nodded. “Yeah, way off base.”

“It was the black eye,” Cam said. “Professors don’t get black eyes.”

Chuckling, he nodded. “Except for my tenth grade science teacher. He got hit by a fly ball during a charity game at school.”

She laughed again. Paul could listen to her laugh all day, every day. “I’ll leave you alone so you can get back to that,” she said, pointing at his iPad.

Paul almost told her that it was just his mom and he’d rather talk to her. She was already turning the corner behind the counter, though. Maybe he should just ask her out on a date. Even if he really didn’t have time to date someone.

* * *

Paul was driving home from a rough home game. Too many turnovers. Too many missed opportunities. Too few goals on net. You name it, it went wrong. The Rangers had trounced them with a five to one victory. He flexed his arm, bending and unbending at the elbow. During the last period McDonagh had gotten in a good hit behind the net. He’d need to go home and ice it before he went to bed.

His eyes went to the Starbucks as he drove by. The lights were out and the place was dark. He was looking forward to seeing her tomorrow morning. He’d gone there on Thursday, but she wasn’t working. The older man that took the other mornings shifts wasn’t nearly as interesting. The entire shopping center was dark except for a spot on the far end. There were a handful of cars in front of a place called Rhythm and Grace. Paul stopped at the red light and watched as a few women filed out the storefront. The roads were almost deserted in this area at eleven o’clock at night. One by one, they got into their cars. He did a double take when he saw Cam slip into a beat-up brown Volvo. What was she doing with all those women?

A honk from behind him startled Paul into motion. While he’d been watching her, the light had turned green. Part of him wanted to pull in and say hi, ask her what she was doing. He hit the gas and lurched through the intersection instead. He was not going to be a creep and start following her around.

* * *

For a Thursday, the place was hopping. She was busy waiting on a steady stream of customers, and he wasn’t able to get more than a minute of her time. Plus, he didn’t want to tell her that he’d been watching her that night. She might think he was crazy, especially since she didn’t know who the hell he was or what he did for a living.

Practice lasted until late in the afternoon. When he got home, he dropped his gym bag on the floor and pulled up the internet browser on the desktop computer in his office. It took him a minute of racking his brain before he could remember the name of the place. Rhythm and Grace. He typed it in and tacked on Pittsburgh before he asked it to search. The first result was a website for a dance studio. The picture on the main page was of the storefront by the Starbucks.

Paul scanned the website. It specialized in hip-hop dance for fun and exercise. Mostly, it just looked like a place for suburban housewives to go and be cool again. He wondered why Cam was taking classes with all the women who had left in SUVs and minivans.

Morning skate was at ten-thirty. He’d have plenty of time to slip into Starbucks and ask her what was up with the dance studio.

* * *

Her hair was piled in a messy bun on top of her head. She looked really cute like that. He watched as Cam sat his coffee down and rang him up. He paid with a twenty and left the change in the jar.

“Why do you keep doing that?” she asked.

“Doing what?”

“Leaving me an outrageous tip.”

So she noticed. Paul could feel the little bit of a blush starting to burn his cheeks. He couldn’t exactly say that he did it because he thought she was cute, and he didn’t want to be condescending to her by saying that she seemed to need it more than him but she probably did. He settled for, “I just think you’re good at what you do, and I bet not enough people appreciate that.”

Cam pursed her lips and looked at him with eyes that told him she knew better than to believe what he’d just spit out. “Try again.”

Fuck it, he thought. “Because I think you’re cute.”

Her head jerk back just the slightest bit in surprise and then she shook her head, trying to suppress the smile on her lips. “Go drink your coffee, professor Paul,” she said, her voice amused, but dry.

A man in his forties was reading a book in his chair. Paul had a brief, irrational moment of irritation that someone had the nerve to sit in his spot. Except it wasn’t his. Plus, his mind was still on Cam. He could feel her eyes burning into his back. Had he just told her that he thought she was cute? Was he in seventh grade again? This was not the proper way to pick up a woman.

He settled for a table by the front of the shop. He still had a view of the traffic going by outside and he could still she her if he looked to the right. It wasn’t the best view, but it would have to do. She waited on two more customers before things slowed down. He was staring at ESPN’s website on his iPad, but nothing was filtering through to his brain from his eyes. All he was doing was thinking about Cam and if she was a good dancer and why she took classes with a bunch of women and if she had a boyfriend and if she liked him even just a little bit. She must since she talked to him and even had a nickname for him. Maybe he should try to look more presentable when he came in. Not wear the glasses and comb his hair back. Wear a button up shirt instead of a hoodie. Maybe.

“I think you’re pretty cute, too.”

Paul almost jumped out of his seat at the sound of her voice. She had, unbeknownst to him, slipped into the chair opposite him. “What?” he asked.

“Oh, no. I’m not saying it again,” she replied. “Are you a writer?”

“A writer?”

“Yes, do you write for a living? You aren’t secretly Anthony Burgess, are you?”

Paul couldn’t help but laugh. “No, no I’m not. The only writing I do is e-mails to my mom and friends back home in Minnesota.”

“I knew you had an accent; just couldn’t place where you’re from.”

“Elk River.”

“Where is that?”

“About a forty minute drive from Minneapolis.”

She propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her open palm. “Is it nice there?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful. Kinda small-town feeling, but you’re close enough to Minneapolis and St. Cloud to not feel cut off.” Paul pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Here, I took this last time I was visiting my parents.” He flipped through the pictures on his phone until he found the one he’d snapped of Lake Orono. “See?”

She took his phone and studied the picture intently. “Wow, that’s gorgeous. What brought you to Pittsburgh and away from this?”

“Work.” Paul didn’t really feel like talking about what he did for a living. Most women either ran or decided they were much more interested after they knew he was a professional athlete with a multi-million dollar contract. He really didn’t want to learn which kind Cam was just yet. “Besides, Pittsburgh isn’t too shabby. I really like it here. Did you grow up in the area?”

“Yeah, I went to North Allegheny in the North Hills.”

“Isn’t that...” he started to ask.

“Yes, yes, it’s the school that Christina Aguilera went to. It’s our claim to fame.” Cam rolled her eyes. “And I got my degree in Secondary Education at Duquesne University.”

“So you teach school?” he asked.

“God, no. I’d be horrible at that. I obviously work at Starbucks. I’ve even got the shirt to prove it,” she said, lifting the logo on her shirt up for him to see.

Paul took a sip of his coffee and adjusted his glasses. “I was coming home late earlier this week and saw you coming out of the place down at the end of the building. Is it a dance studio?”

“Are you stalking me, professor Paul?” She smiled, so he knew she was just teasing him.

“Maybe,” he replied.

“Yes, it’s a dance studio. And, yes, I was dancing.”

“Do you like dancing?”

She sat back in the chair, giving him a better view of her breasts. Paul couldn’t help but look for a brief moment before sliding his eyes back up to her face. She wasn’t even paying attention, though. Her eyes were focused out the window. “Yes, I love dancing.”

“Are you good at it?”

She turned her gaze back to him and laughed softly. “I get by. I could be better.”

The door chimed to announce the arrival of two women. “I guess duty calls,” he said, disappointed. “Thanks for talking with me.”

“Thanks for talking back to me,” she replied before getting up and meeting the two customers as the counter.

Paul watched her walk away, his eyes shifting from the back of her head, down her spine, to her waist and the way her hips shifted from side to side. She had a little bit of swing to her step that made him feel like he needed a cold shower.

* * *

Really, she just wanted to march over to his chair, pull the book out of his hand, and tell him that they needed to go out to dinner. Because they really did. He’d told her that he thought she was cute. Cute enough to drop up to fifty bucks in tips in a week. She thought he was sexy as hell in that buttoned-up college professor sort of way. He was always careful with words and enunciated things clearly. It was a refreshing change from guys who would mumble or use stupid slang words. Not professor Paul. He was cultured underneath that Penguins hoodie. He’d combed his hair this morning and all she wanted to do was run her fingers through it and mess it up.

No, she told herself. She’d promised that she’d give herself two years to heal from her failed marriage before she jumped back in the dating pool. She couldn’t just give that up for the first cute guy who had gotten the juices flowing downstairs.

She’d been dancing better lately. Maybe it was him. Maybe thinking about him was doing the trick, getting her groove back. It had been hard after the divorce because she felt undesirable. Cam knew it was bad news to get your confidence from the way any man looks at you, but damn if the way he always sneaked glances at her from over his glasses didn’t turn her on like no other.

After she’d wiped down the counters, she walked over to stand in front of him. He put the iPad down on his thigh and looked up. His eyes were the most gorgeous shade of blue-green that she’d ever seen. Why had she never noticed that before? Probably because she was too busy trying to see if he had an ass that was nice enough to match those shoulders.

Cam pulled the iPod out of her back pocket and tossed it at him. He easily caught it with his right hand. “Give it a chance. Laid back with horns. It’s not D’Angelo, but it’s good,” she told him.

“I’ll give it a fair shake,” Paul replied before pulling his earbuds out and plugging them in. There was something to be said for a guy who could just go with the flow. She thought he’d ask her what she wanted or roll his eyes at her pathetic attempt to convert him to enjoying the music she like. Instead, he pressed the buds into his ears and hit play.

Cam sat down at the table by the door and watched the misty rain coat the roadway and all the vehicles in the lot. It was in the upper thirties, but the news was forecasting a drop in temperature this evening. She hated worrying about making her late class and getting home in one piece with ice on the roads. Her car was a piece of shit with tires that were almost bald.

She glanced over at Paul and saw his head subtlety lifting up and down to what she knew was the beat of the song. She’d given him one of her favorite J. Holiday tracks. It was more contemporary than what she’d made him listen to before and it was definitely more overtly sexual. There was much discussion of what J. Holiday planned to do to his lady when she got home. She listened to hip-hop and R&B so much that she no longer paid as much attention to the lyrics. When she stopped to think about what she’d given him, she almost blushed.

Cam shifted her gaze back to the window and sighed. Things were getting better. Life was getting better. She’d been broken down and hurt a year ago. Now she was proud of her grit and glad she could have a crush on a man, even after Jim treating her like shit toward the end. Maybe she’d have everything she wanted this time next year. She hoped she’d at least be on her way.

A couple walked through the door and she pushed herself up to go take their order. One black coffee and a chai latte later, she lowered herself back into the chair by the door. She needed to restock the display case with pastries, but she felt so tired today. It’d be nice to sit down and relax. It’d be nice to not worry about every single thing every single day. It’d be nice if she had someone she could tell instead of making it seem like everything was hunky dory in her life.

“It was good, but I kinda liked the second song better.” She looked up when she heard his voice. He carefully sat the iPod down on the table in front of her and slid into the seat opposite.

“What second song?”

“Treat You Good,” he replied.

“Oh,” Cam said. “I meant to take that off. I was trying to decide which one to play for you, and I thought you’d appreciate the J. Holiday one more. You liked the Lloyd one?”

“Maybe,” he said with a small smile playing on his lips. “Are all your songs about oral sex?”

Cam’s eyes widened at his question before she was reduced to a fit of giggling. “Yeah, that’s a popular theme in R&B. Gotta keep the demographic happy. Those guys write for woman, you know.”

“They were both better than I thought. I guess I’ve just never sat down and tried to listen.”

“You don’t have to be nice. If you hated them, you can say so.”

“I didn’t hate them.” He paused for a minute and then said, “You look tired.”

Cam opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Observant fucker. “Yeah, I am a little.”

“Try some camomile tea before bed tonight,” he said, pushing himself up out of the chair. “It’ll help you sleep.”

“Thanks, Paul,” she said, looking up at him. He was tall, standing over her like he was. He also looked handsome with his five o’clock shadow and slicked back hair and concerned face.


	2. Chapter 2

He was on his way to a Sunday evening home game when he drove by Starbucks. Her brown Volvo was parked in front of the dance studio. Paul considered stopping and saying hi to her, but that would be really weird. He wasn’t even sure they were friends, and he’d probably be barging in on a dance class she was taking. Instead, he thought about her all the way to the arena.

He’d enjoyed everything about her from the way she looked to her smile to the way she would tease him by calling him professor to her efficiency at making a mean cappuccino. The only thing that had turned him off was her love of trashy music. Except now that love of trashy music was intriguing and a little sexy. She wore makeup, but it looked classy and natural. She didn’t press any dress code at Starbucks with too-tight shirts or clothes that looked like they belonged in a club. Maybe he had some really fucked up preconceived notions about the type of person who listened to hip-hop and R&B. Or maybe she was just special.

On his way home after the game, he was feeling worse for the wear. They’d won, but it had been by the skin of their teeth in a shootout. His elbow was still stiff and the cortisone shot their team doctor had given him the day after the nasty hit hadn’t done much to help. He’d probably have it ice it again when he got home.

Paul thought about Cam and what she was doing at eleven o’clock on a Sunday night. She was probably at home in bed already, especially if she had to be at work the next morning. He thought about getting up early and going to see her, but then he’d just end up there in the middle of the rush as everyone was going to work. The more he talked to her, the more he felt like he should ask her out on a date. That would inevitably lead to him telling her what he did for a living, though. Which would inevitably lead to her shutting him down or turning into one of those chicks who just wanted a semi-famous boyfriend. Either way, he’d lose what they had. Not that they had much anyway.

When he pulled up at the red light next to the strip mall, he glanced over at the lot. All the lights but the dance studio’s were out in the storefronts. The parking lot was empty except for her car. Adjusting his hands on the steering wheel, he almost made a left and pulled in to see why she hadn’t gone home. Instead, he hit the gas and continued on his way home.

He only made it a half a mile before he made an illegal u-turn in the middle of the road and headed back to Rhythm and Grace. It was a safe neighborhood--residential with very little crime--but what if she had gotten hurt or someone had attacked her? What if he went into Starbucks tomorrow and she wasn’t there because she was in the hospital or dead? Paul swung into the lot and parked his vehicle beside hers. Without thinking, he pushed himself out of the SUV and walked up to the door, his long strides getting him there in no time. The glass storefront was covered by white drapes and the glass door was frosted so he couldn’t see inside.

Half expecting the door to be locked, he tried it. It pushed open with ease, revealing a shallow reception area. There was a desk to his right and chairs against the wall opposite him. Against the curtain-covered glass was a comfortable couch. No one was in sight, but he could hear the thump of bass-heavy music from the interior of the place. The door in front of him was ajar and led to a large room. The far wall was floor to ceiling mirrors, reflecting his image back at him. Still no one. He saw his damp, messy hair and the dark circles under his eyes. He looked like shit and should probably get more sleep when he was in town. The black hoodie and track pants made him look sloppy. He hadn’t had enough energy to put the suit back on when he’d slipped out of the locker room after the game.

The music was louder and coming from a room to the left. The door to the room was open and he could make out bits and pieces from where he stood. The floor was covered in what looked like a series of gymnastic mats and two silver poles shot out of the floor all the way up to the ceiling. Like the room he was in, the far wall was covered in mirrors. The poles looked like stripper poles.

Tentatively, he walked over and stuck his head in the door. There were several other poles further into the room and a woman holding onto one of them as she swung her body around. It didn’t take him long to realize the woman was her. Cam. She had on a bright blue tank top that fit her like a second skin and a pair of tight, black spandex shorts that barely covered her ass.

Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and swung over her shoulder as she stopped the momentum and grabbed the pole in both her hands. Paul swallowed as he watched her with wide eyes. Her feet were shoulder-width apart and she undulated her hips forward and back as she bent her knees and dropped lower and lower. It looked like she was humping the pole. When she was close to the ground, she leaned back, dropping one hand to the floor behind her and using the other to keep herself held up with the pole. Throwing her body forward, she easily pulled herself back up to a standing position before turning her back on the pole and bending at the waist. The pole was nestled between the cheeks of her ass, and Paul was pretty sure he should leave before his erection made it impossible to walk.

She pressed her palms to the floor and wrapped one leg around the pole so it was pressed against the back of her knee. One of her hands came up to grab into the lower portion of the pole and provide her that balance to keep her on it. When she took her other hand off the ground, her body’s momentum spun her on the pole.

Yeah, he needed to leave. He shouldn’t be watching her. The only thing was, he couldn’t stop watching. When she let herself slide to the floor, she flipped to her back and spread her legs in the air before flipping them over to one side and rolling onto her hands and knees. Her hands went back to the pole to pull her up to her feet again. She made it all look so effortless, moving her hips to the throbbing bass beat. The guy on the song was singing about her ass. Fuck.

Her back was against the pole again and she had one hand thrown over her head and wrapped around it while she rolled her hips. She bent her knees and lowered herself into a squat. Her legs were spread, knees wide apart, and all he could see were the way her hips moved to the pounding music.

Paul licked his dry lips and made an effort to close his mouth instead of leaving his jaw hanging open. It was probably a good thing because right at that moment, she hooked her leg around the pole and lifted herself up to swing around. When she saw him standing in the doorway like a creep, she dropped to the ground, almost tripping herself up on the gymnastic mat. Unthinking, Paul lurched forward to steady her, but she didn’t need him. She’d grabbed onto the pole for support, her right hand pressed over her heart.

“Paul? You scared the hell out of me!” she yelled over the music.

“Sorry!” he yelled back.

Cam walked over to the corner and grabbed a tablet. A touch of the screen and the music was shut off. The room felt awkwardly silent without it. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

Paul shifted from one foot to the other, conscious of the fact that his dirty shoes were on her pristine mats. He pulled the knit beanie down over his forehead a little further and said, “I saw your car outside on my way home. I, uh, was worried about you. Looked like everyone else had gone home, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Cam’s eyes were wide and her chest was heaving as she sucked in air. All he could think about was how gorgeous she looked. “Oh,” she said. “Oh. I’m, I’m fine. Just staying late to practice. Didn’t feel like going home.”

“They gave you a key?”

“What?”

“A key to the studio. You have one?”

She tried to pull her shorts down her legs like she was self conscious. Cam laughed softly under her breath and dropped her gaze to the floor before looking back up at him. “Uh, yeah. I actually own the studio.”

“What?” Paul asked.

“The studio. It’s mine. I have the only key.”

“But you work at Starbucks,” he replied dumbly.

She flashed him a shy smile and shook her head. “I do. But I also own this studio.”

“Why do you work at Starbucks then?”

Cam laughed again, and he felt like an idiot for not understanding. “Well, the studio is less than a year old so I need the extra income. Plus, Starbucks offers health insurance for part-time employees.” She paused, crossing her arms over her chest, another seemingly self-conscious gesture when she had nothing to be self-conscious about. “Is that okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s... sure. I mean, wow. I... I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Paul,” she told him with a genuine, kind smile.

“You just never said anything.”

“You never asked.”

He shrugged. “I guess I just thought you worked there. I mean, you’re there almost every day. How many hours a week do you actually work?”

Cam scrunched her nose up in thought. “Probably about thirty or thirty-five at Starbucks and forty to forty-five here. I’m usually not here this late most nights, though. Once a week I teach a late class. I just stuck around tonight after the beginners pole class because I didn’t want to go home.”

“Why?”

She laughed, but it sounded more nervous than amused. “You’ve got a lot of questions for me tonight, professor. I don’t know that I’m ready to sit on your psychiatrist couch and spill my deepest fears and anxieties just yet.”

Paul could kick himself. He hadn’t meant to press. He was just so dumbfounded that so many things he’d assumed were incorrect. He’d thought he knew her, but it turned out that she had an entire life he knew nothing about. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess I’m just shocked. You teach pole dancing?”

“Three or four classes a week. The bored housewives love it. Plus, it’s great exercise.” She held up a hand. “And before you ask, no, I’m not a stripper.”

Paul shoved his hands in his pockets. “I wasn’t going to ask that. You don’t strike me as the type.”

“Mostly it’s hip-hop classes. That’s what I really love.” She sat the tablet down on a table in the corner and said, “Do you mind if I get some actual clothes on?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, no. I mean, no, I don’t mind. Actually, I should probably go. I didn’t mean to butt in and start asking so many questions.” Paul cringed at how stupid he sounded. He was usually better than this.

“It’s okay. You just... caught me off-guard.”

“Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow. Dark roast at nine in the morning?”

Cam laughed softly. “Yeah, sure. Maybe I’ll make you a cafe breve since you’ve seen me in my hot pants.”

“Yeah, I look forward to that,” Paul said, quickly adding at the end, “The cafe breve, I mean.”

Giving her a brief wave, he retraced his steps back out to his car. She followed behind and wished him a good night before locking the door behind him. Paul turned the engine over and backed out of the parking spot in a daze. He wasn’t sure how he felt about anything. Well, he was damn sure he felt she was the hottest woman he’d ever met. But her owning a dance studio? Her teaching pole dancing classes? Her wearing the sexiest clothing he’d ever seen outside a strip club?

Or maybe she was just sexy and made the clothes look that much better. Her owning the studio was admirable and definitely made him think more of her, not that he didn’t think she was one of the coolest people he’d ever met already. But was she that kind of girl? The kind that was just interested in attention from men and hooking up. He’d always assumed that women who did what she did just did it for the attention. Which was weird because she’d never said anything to him about it until he’d brought it up, and she’d been dancing by herself when he’d barged in. There wasn’t an audience. She hadn’t made him the audience. She’d seemed a little embarrassed if he was honest with himself.

Paul pulled out onto the road and headed home. He needed to sleep. Or maybe he needed a cold shower.

* * *

She couldn’t believe he’d walked in there last night and seen her dancing to that damn song by The Dream. He’d looked shocked and confused and absolutely adorable. So adorable she’d wanted to tackle him and make out on the mats in the pole room. But she was in the second year of single life and he made her a little nervous sometimes.

Maybe she liked him too much and didn’t want to come off like an easy lay. Because she wasn’t and never would be. She just happened to have a weakness for him in particular. Paul with his messy red-blonde hair and glasses that made him look like a college professor. With his casual way of looking deliciously kissable. With his knowing eyes that saw things she didn’t want him to see. She wasn’t just talking about her dance routine, but the way he’d easily honed in on how tired she’d looked that day in the shop. Most guys wouldn’t have noticed or wouldn’t have cared. He obviously did. And him going out of his way to make sure she was okay when she stayed late at the studio? Who the hell WAS he?

Maybe he worked in oil and gas. Some rogue executive of a startup that was doing well due to his brilliance. The more she thought about him, the more she wanted to know. And, like her, he hadn’t been very forthcoming about his life outside of their time in Starbucks. Cam leaned on the counter and pressed her head into her hands. She was in serious danger of falling deeper into like with him, and right now was not the time. She was working two jobs and still trying to get her business off the ground. Things were better than they had been six months ago, but she was still living in a tiny one-bedroom apartment without cable because all her money was getting dumped into the studio. And there was also that pact she made with herself, saying that she’d take two years to work on herself and heal from the failed marriage to Jim.

Business usually picked up around seven in the morning. A steady stream of people came in and grabbed coffee on their way to work. There were regulars, people that she remembered seeing once or twice a week. Some of them would stick around and read a paper at one of the tables. Most just came and went. She was handing an older woman back her change when she saw Paul come in the door.

His eyes assessed the line of three people at the register, and he detoured to his chair. She figured she’d pour him a cup of dark roast as soon as things were a little slower. Instead, two more people walked in and one of them had a long drink order for the office. It wasn’t until almost eight-thirty that she found herself with a moment to breath. Everyone had left except for Paul. He was sitting in his chair with his iPad and he’d been there for almost an hour.

Cam almost poured him a cup of dark roast before she remembered her joke from the night before about making him a cafe breve to celebrate him seeing her half-naked. With a smile on her face, she made him the cafe breve and walked over to where he was waiting.

Paul looked up at her as she approached, giving her one of the sweetest smiles she’d ever seen. No leering, no jokes about her dance routine the previous night, no winks. Just that smile that told her good morning. “Cafe breve like I promised,” she told him, setting it on the table beside him.

“I’ll only drink it if you have one with me,” he said.

Cam chuckled under her breath and nodded. “Okay, but only because this morning has been tough, and I’d really like to sit down for a minute.” She retreated behind the counter and threw together a cafe breve for herself.

When she looked back up to find him, he was seated at a table for two by the window. A slight incline of his head told her that she should join him. Oh boy, Cam thought, I’m in a trouble. How could she say no to him?

“Sooooo,” Cam said as she sat down across from him and wrapped her hands around the cup.

“Thanks for having coffee with me,” he said before taking a cautious sip of the hot beverage.

“Thanks for checking on me last night. I don’t think I said that then since I was so surprised to see you.”

“It’s nothing,” Paul said. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“You’re a good guy, professor Paul.

He ducked his head and took another drink. “Just looking out for you. You make the best coffee.”

“Can I ask what you do for a living?” she asked. “I figured it’s only fair since you know all my deep, dark secrets now.”

Paul shifted in his seat. “I’m an athlete.” It was a cryptic answer, short on the explanation, and didn’t tell her much more than she already knew.

“Like, a marathon runner or a cyclist or a baseball player? I mean, if you don’t want me to know then...”

“No,” he said, cutting her off. “I want you to know. It’s just... it’s been my experience that when people find out what I do then they... change.”

“Change?”

“Mmm, hmm.”

“Well, I promise I won’t change. Unless you tell me you’re professional wrestler, and then I’ll probably laugh.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m a hockey player.”

“Oh, cool. Do you enjoy it?”

“I do.”

Cam shrugged. “So, did I change? I’m not sure why people change when they hear you play hockey.”

“Well, I play for the Penguins.”

Cam lifted her brows. “No shit? Like the Pittsburgh Penguins?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what, you’re like a reserve player? Do you get much time with the team?”

His brows furrowed, and he looked down at his cup for a minute before lifting his gaze again. “I’m actually on their roster and am under contract.”

Cam shook her head. “That’s Greek to me. I’m not a sports person. Translation, professor Paul?”

The use of his nickname seemed to relax him. His shoulders that had been bunched up to his ears dropped back down. “It means I play with them full time--usually three or four games a week.”

“Oh. Wow.” She was surprised. She didn’t follow the sport and was surprised that one of the team members had just been slipping in and out of her Starbucks.

“You don’t know anything about hockey, do you?” he asked with a smile.

Cam sipped her drink and let the expresso-laced half and half coat her tongue and slide down her throat. She hadn’t had a cafe breve in a long time. “Not a damn thing. Well, I know that Sidney Crosby is like a god or something. He’s the golden boy of the city.”

Paul smiled, but it seemed just a little bit strained. “He’s one of the best.”

“So, you’re practically as good as him, right?”

This got a genuine laugh from him. “No, not nearly. I’m a defenseman.”

“I’m totally googling you when you leave. I bet you’re just being modest.”

“I looked at your dance studio website,” he admitted.

Cam laughed. “Are you going to take up pole dancing?”

“No way. I’d look like an idiot. I admire you for opening your own studio, though.”

“You just thought I was a thirty-something loser who worked at Starbucks,” she teased.

Paul shook his head. “No, I never thought that. But I think you’re even more amazing now.”

Cam shoved the cup into her face and took a drink before she could blurt out that they needed to go in the back and make out.

* * *

Of course she knew Sid. Of course. Even people who didn’t follow hockey knew who Sidney Crosby is. He never had a problem with that, sometimes even felt bad that Sid couldn’t go out in public without being stopped and asked for autographs. Paul never really minded that people didn’t often recognize him or pay that much attention to him. But this time a woman he was interested in didn’t know him from the next guy but knew the name of one of his teammates. It wasn’t her fault at all, but it still hurt.

She seemed to take the big reveal in stride. Most of the time the girls would perk up and start showering him with more attention in hopes of getting the connection to the team. Paul knew sometimes they’d use him to get close to another guy--a Crosby or a Malkin. He’d learned really fast to shut those girls down. Cam didn’t seem like that kind of girl, though.

So, that had to mean that she was the other kind--the kind that ran the other way when they found out exactly how much of his time his job monopolized, how it would always come first since it was his career. He was on the downward slope at thirty-two, but he still felt like he had a few more good years to give.

She was trying to tell him that owning the studio was no big deal, that she was the only employee and the place wasn’t even turning a profit yet. That didn’t really matter, though. The fact that she’d opened her own business was admirable enough.

“The place looks great. Did you renovate it or was it already a studio?”

“I renovated it. Hired guys to put in the floor and move a couple of the walls. Oh, and to hang up the mirrors, too. I hooked the sound system up myself and did the decoration and painting. It’s a pretty low cost place to run. Just pay the utilities. I do all the office work and the cleaning.”

“That’s amazing.”

She laughed and shook her head as her cheeks flushed. Paul wanted to lean forward and kiss her. He’d deal with her breaking it off with him later because he worked too much. Right now he just really wanted every inch of her.

“It’s survival. I needed to change my life and do something I love. Sometimes something picks you; you don’t pick it.”

Paul understood exactly what she meant. “Yeah, I get that. Totally.”

“So, you love hockey, right? I mean, you can’t get into the big leagues without loving it and being amazing at it.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I love it. It’s my life right now.”

“Just right now?” she asked, sitting back and folding her arms over her chest. It pushed her breasts up and his mind flashed back to her grinding on the pole in that little tank top.

“Well, I’ve probably only got three to five more years before my game isn’t keeping up with the younger guys. Then I’ll be forced into retirement.”

Cam’s brows furrowed. “Oh. That seems harsh. You’re young.”

“I’m thirty-two.”

“That’s my point. You’re only a year older than me. We’re still young, right?”

“Not according to a couple of my teammates’ kids,” Paul said with a grin.

Cam chuckled and took a sip of her cafe breve. “But, seriously, you’ll be forced to retire before forty?”

“Likely.”

“What will you do for a living then?”

Paul shrugged. As much as he liked the routine and as much as he loved to follow a plan, he’d yet to really consider what he wanted to do after he retired. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll figure it out then.”

“Oooh, living on the edge. So daring.”

“I’m just that kind of guy,” he told her, the dry humor evident in his voice.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” she said with a wink.

The door chimed, and two women walked in.

“Duty calls,” Cam said. “Thanks for the talk and the coffee. I needed it.”

“The talk or the coffee?” he asked as she stood up. Disappointment was settling in now that he realized she was working and he couldn’t sit there and talk to her for the rest of the day.

“Both,” she told him. “Definitely both.”

* * *

He hadn’t seen her for days. On away games he always found himself wishing he had her number. She seemed like a texter. He didn’t do that much, but he would for her if that was her thing. Without a way to contact her, he’d taken to listening to internet radio stations he felt she would like on his phone. No Tool or Red Hot Chili Peppers or Neil Young like he usually went to. Instead, he was listening to R&B or pop stations, closing his eyes and imagining her dancing to all the songs that were played.

When he got back in town on Friday night, he had convinced himself that he needed to ask her out or at least get her number. So, on Saturday morning, he got up and threw on a long-sleeve T-shirt with a pair of jeans that had cost him a couple hundred dollars too much and went to go see her. He got there a little later than normal--closer to eleven than ten. She was busy with customers, but he saw the way she smiled at him when he walked in and it made him feel good. She served him his usual dark roast and moved on to the next customer. Ten minutes later, she came over to his chair, one hip jutting out to the side with her hand on it.

“You big fat liar. You are an amazing hockey player.”

He laughed. “Says who? My mom?”

“Says facts, professor Paul. I spent an hour trying to figure out how to read stats just for you.”

His heartbeat was reverberating in his chest, and he was sure his smile was so big he looked like an idiot. She spent time thinking about him, and she was still teasing him with the professor nickname, so that had to be a good thing. “Oh, yeah? How’d that go?”

“Terrible. I’m bad at math. But from what I read, you’re a pretty important guy for the team. So you can stop trying to be all cute and modest.”

“Cute and modest just come naturally,” he told her.

She laughed and shoved her hands in the back pockets of her pants. The position accentuated her breasts, which he’d gotten a good look at a few nights ago when he’d spied on her. “Yeah, I’m getting that impression,” she said with a smile. “Add charming to that list, too.”

Paul opened his mouth to tell her she had him all wrong, but instead he said, “Does that mean you’d agree if I asked you out on a date?”

Cam eyes widened. “Uh, YOU’RE asking ME out?”

“Hypothetically. Just in case you say hypothetically no.”

“I... uh, wow.” She seemed surprised and confused. “I’m flattered. But it’s just, like, the most terrible time in my life for a date right now.”

“Why?” he asked. She didn’t seem like she was blowing him off, but struggling to explain why she wasn’t saying yes.

“I work here six mornings at week. So, I’ve got to get up at five to be here in time. And I’m at the studio pretty much every afternoon and evening. I never get home before eight or nine. I just... don’t have time.” She looked sad and defeated and really tired in that moment. Paul hadn’t realized until then just how much she worked. She probably only went home to fall into bed and get back up again. All those mornings he’d come in and leisurely sipped his coffee and read a magazine or book while she was probably running on empty made him feel like an asshole.

“I didn’t know you worked that much. I mean, I guess I knew you worked a lot, but not like that.”

“Plus, I made this pact with myself that I wouldn’t date anyone for two years, and I’ve got eight and half more months to go.”

Paul raised a brow. “Pact?”

Cam grimaced. “I’m damaged goods. I got divorced a little over a year ago. Told myself I would spend two years alone trying to do me. Start my business. Work hard. That kind of stuff.” She laughed, but it sounded a little bitter and a lot sad. “So, see, you don’t really want to go out with me. Baggage like woah, professor.”

Paul didn’t think she could have shocked him more than the night he’d walked into her private pole dance session, but dropping the news of a divorce like that on a Saturday morning took the cake. He didn’t know what to say. He’d never dated a woman who’d been married before. Even though he was tongue tied, that didn’t mean he wasn’t still interested.

“You won’t make an exception to the two year rule?” he finally asked after a moment of sitting there with wide eyes, searching his brain for the right thing to say.

The corner of her mouth lifted up. “If I made an exception, then you’d definitely be it. But I can’t even go out to dinner with you because... well, because I eat dinner in the studio.”

Paul wasn’t about to grovel and beg and plead, even if part of him wanted to. He’d asked, she’d said no. End of story. Even if he didn’t like the end. “Okay, okay. Well, if you ever do want to have dinner, then... let me know.”

“Will do, professor Paul.”

* * *

She had no business at all turning his fine ass down. She knew she’d probably be lucky to have him take her out on a date. He seemed a little bit old-fashioned, and she liked that. He’d probably hold the door for her and pull out her chair and ask her if he could order her a bottle of wine. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would just take her home and try to get in her pants. He was a third date kind of guy who lets you really think about how much you want him before he gives it to you. That was rare nowadays.

If it had just been the pact, then she’d have agreed to go out with him. But when you coupled that with her schedule, it wasn’t worth the effort since it was obvious she didn’t know how to keep a relationship together. He probably didn’t have trouble finding women and her turning him down wouldn’t hurt him. He’d just move on to the next lovely lady that caught his eye. She’d seen his salary and how well-known he was in the NHL when she’d looked him up a few nights before. He’d have no trouble landing someone even better than her.

Her noon relief arrived a few minutes early. Cam grabbed her coat and purse from the office and clocked out. Paul was still sitting in his chair, staring out the window. He looked like he was deep in thought.

“Hey,” Cam said, waving at him. “My shift is over. I’m headed to the studio. See you when I see you?”

He nodded. “Yeah. We’ve got a couple home games, so I’ll be around this week.”

“I, uh, I wish my schedule wasn’t so shitty so I could spend some more time with you, but maybe that’s your luck. You’d just be wasting your time with someone like me who doesn’t have her shit together yet.”

“You’ve got your shit together, Cam,” he told her. “Trust me. You do.”

She put her hand on the door. “Most of the time it doesn’t feel like I do.”

“You’re constantly moving. You can’t do that forever. You’ve got to stop sometime. Believe me when I say I know that from personal experience.”

He probably did know better than she did. He was at the top of his field and had probably worked harder than she knew to get there. “You’re right,” Cam told him. “I just don’t know how anymore. I feel like I’ll... drown if I stop dog paddling.”

“Maybe you just need someone to give you a boost every now and then so you can take a breath.”

His words cut right through her. “Yeah, maybe,” she said, pushing the door open. “See you.” She stepped out into the chilly February air and hurried down the sidewalk to the studio. Halfway there, she turned around and walked back to Starbucks. Poking her head inside the door, she found him where she’d left him.

Paul looked up from his book. His eyes were wide behind the lenses of his glasses. The frames were thin and black along the top, but nonexistent along the bottom. They looked very sophisticated. “Hey,” she said. “Do you want a tour of the studio. I didn’t really show you around the other night.”

“Yeah,” he said immediately. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

He tossed the book in his messenger bag, slung the bag over his shoulder, and dropped his cup into the trashcan as he followed her out. She was so very aware of the way he walked a half step behind her. He seemed easy and relaxed and respectful and attentive. She was stupid for not shutting down the studio early one night to have dinner with him. Then again, his schedule was probably nuts too. Hockey games were usually at night and he probably traveled a lot.

“The tour isn’t going to be long. There’s actually not that much to see,” Cam said, unlocking the door. “But I did it all so I’m pretty proud of it.”

“What I saw was great,” Paul replied, following her inside.

“So, this is just the reception area.” She threw her arm out to the side. “A little desk for paperwork or whatever. Seating,” her arm went out to indicate the chairs and the couch. “And the bathroom is right there,” she said, pointing at the closed door to the left.

“This is nice.” His hands were shoved in his pockets and he looked like the most amazing boyfriend ever while he stood there in casual clothes and a messenger bag hanging off his shoulder. Too bad he wasn’t her boyfriend.

Cam walked into the dance studio itself and flipped on the lights. She watched his reflection in the mirror as he took in the room. It wasn’t much--hardwood floors, a vaulted ceiling, and mirrors covering the far wall. There were four speakers, one in each corner of the room, hanging from the ceiling and angled down. The acoustics were actually surprisingly good. “This is where most of the classes happen. I teach hip-hop for the most part. I also do these social dancing classes that kinda teach people how to dance and be not-so-awkward at parties or in clubs or whatever. That’s probably one of my favorites to teach.”

Paul chuckled. “I need that one. I can’t dance at all.”

“Come on, now,” she said with a smile, watching him as he watched her in the mirror. “I bet you’re better than you think.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m worse than I know.”

“Well, come see me and I’ll sort you out.”

“Aren’t your classes mostly women?”

Cam nodded. “Mostly. Sometimes guys come with their wives or girlfriends. I was actually thinking of doing one class a month just for the fellas. I know some of you need help.”

“You’d probably do well.”

“You think so?”

“They’d all want to come be around you,” he said with one of those cheeky smiles that also had a touch of shyness to it. He wasn’t a shy guy, really. But he wasn’t a total charmer who played the game hard either. He was easy and giving and observant. And while he looked amazing with the bed-head, today he had combed it and he looked incredibly handsome when he leveled his gaze on her.

Cam blushed and waved the comment off. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, this is the room I teach the pole dance classes in.”

“Are those popular?”

“Yeah,” she said, flipping on the light and walking inside. “I was surprised, but the women like them because they let them get in touch with that sensual side of themselves.”

“What happened to the mats?”

She looked down at the floor and then back up at him. “Oh, I just put those down for the first level classes. I don’t want anyone falling on their head on this hardwood floor. They tend to inhibit the dancing part of the routines when the ladies get comfortable, so we take them off when I feel like people aren’t going to get concussed.

“The entire place is amazing, Cam,” he said. His voice sounded honest and sincere and proud. All those good things that you wanted to hear from someone. She’d heard them from a couple of her close friends. She’d heard them from her students. But the compliment coming from him seemed something more.

“Thanks, Paul.”

“Tell me when you do those classes for guys. Maybe I’ll come learn how to not look like my dad when I have to dance.”

She laughed softly and walked around a couple of the poles. He was still standing in the doorway, watching her and then watching her through the mirror. She wanted to walk up and kiss him. He’d asked her out, so he probably wouldn’t object.

Before she could get up the nerve, he looked at his watch and said, “I guess I should go. You probably have a busy day.”

“Just working on a couple routines. I don’t have class until four and then again at seven.”

“How do you work on routines?” he asked. “Do you just dance by yourself?”

“Pretty much. I listen to the music and kinda play around with the steps by watching myself in the mirror.”

“That sounds interesting. How do you come up with the moves?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “It’s actually really boring. Lots of stopping and starting.” On impulse she said, “Do you want to stick around and see?”

Cam expected him to say no. He’d already looked at his watch like he had somewhere to be. He was important so he probably did have somewhere much more important to be than in her dinky little studio. She was surprised when he said, “Yeah, I would. Do you mind if I watch?”

“Uh, no, I mean, that’s fine.” She slipped past him through the doorway. “Let me change, and I’ll be right back.”

* * *

Paul wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He paced across the floor, looking at the wall and then the mirror that showed his reflection. She’d turned him down when he’d asked her out, but it didn’t feel like rejection. It felt like she wanted to know him better, but was overwhelmed with life. He could work with that.

“You have to promise not to laugh at me,” she said, sweeping into the room in clothes that were decidedly less risque than the ones from the other night. She had on a pair of loose, dark pink capri pants and a white tank top with the name of the studio emblazoned across it. Her hair was in a messy bun with tendrils escaping down her neck.

He smiled and stepped back against the wall to watch her. “I’m not laughing. I bet you’re really good.”

“I’m not that good, but you’re actually helping me out. I’ve been trying to translate a routine from a video, and I want you to watch me alongside it and let me know if I’m okay or not.”

“Okay,” Paul agreed. As long as he got to watch her, he was on board.

“I just need to get this to connect to the stereo.” She walked over to the black stereo in the corner on a small table. She had a tablet tucked away next to it that she pulled out and started fiddling with. A moment later, she walked over and handed him the small tablet. A YouTube video was paused on the screen.

“Am I supposed to press play?”

She stepped back and nodded. “Give me a second.”

He watched as she turned around and faced the mirror. His eyes swept down her back and the way the loose knit fabric of the pants rested against her ass. Before he got caught checking her out, he flipped his gaze back up to look at her in the mirror. Her eyes were closed and her feet were shoulder-width apart like she was meditating.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m ready. I’m throwing in some supplemental moves that won’t be in the video, but let me know if I get off the routine when it comes around.”

“Sure,” he said, licking his lower lip and pressing play on the screen. The bass was heavy and for the first few seconds she just nodded her head in time with the beat. When the lyrics began, she started moving, her movements were centered in her hips as she swung them back and forth. Her ass looked so good when she popped it out. He was so focused on Cam that he forgot to look at the video on the tablet screen. It wasn’t until halfway through the chorus that he realized he wasn’t doing what he’d been told.

The movements weren’t overtly sexual, but the way she moved was smooth and sensual and made his blood run hot. Paul wished he knew how to dance so he could step in and touch her, let their bodies move together. Maybe she’d let him kiss her. Maybe they could make out on the hardwood floor of her studio. He swallowed hard as she rolled her hips and bent her knees, grinding down to the ground. She alternated between dancing with her eyes closed and watching herself in the mirror. He wondered what she saw, if she was critical of the way she held her body. Because to him she was perfect.

When the woman in the song stopped singing and a guy started rapping Cam stopped dancing and turned around. She was slightly out of breath with strands of hair in her face. She brushed them away and looked at him. “Was it okay?”

“What?” Paul asked, trying to make his brain work with words again. “Yeah, yeah, it was perfect.”

“Was I off or did it follow the video well enough?” She walked up and took the tablet from his hands.

Paul gave her a sheepish smile. “I kinda forgot about the video.”

Cam looked at him for a long moment, her face straight and serious. He widened his eyes, worried that she was mad. At that moment she broke into giggles, flashing him the biggest smile. “I’m taking that as a compliment,” she said through the laughter.

Paul couldn’t help but smile back. “You’re really good. Really, really good.”

“Thanks, professor. I appreciate that.” Her smile was beaming, and he was trying to reconcile the down-to-earth girl with a great sense of humor with the sexual goddess who pole-danced.

“Why aren’t you in New York or L.A. or somewhere doing this for a living?”

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head at him. “That’s not me. I’m not a performer. I’d freeze up on stage with a bunch of people staring at me.”

“I don’t believe that. You’re amazing.”

“Dancing in front of you is different than dancing in front of a bunch of people.”

Paul shoved his hands in his pocket. “Don’t you dance in front of your classes?”

“Sure, but I’m teaching them. They’re dancing with me.”

“So you like teaching here?”

Cam nodded as she let her hair down and shook it out. Paul wanted to run his fingers through it so badly. “I love it. This is what I want to do. I know you probably think it’s a cop out teaching suburban woman how to dance in a strip mall next to Starbucks, but it’s what I’ve always aspired to. I went to school for dance, but I changed my major toward the end because I was afraid I wouldn’t get a job doing what I love. It took me a few years before I got up the courage to just do it.”

He HAD thought she was settling for something second best, something she was better than. But hearing her explain that he’d had it and her wrong, he felt like a judgmental asshole. “That’s awesome, Cam. I’m glad you get to do what you love.”

“I’m getting there. Give me another year and maybe this place will be turning a profit and I can reduce my hours at Starbucks.”

Paul didn’t know her well, but he knew that she deserved all the success. He just wished he could make it happen for her. She shouldn’t be working almost eighty hours in a week. She deserved a man who would... His line of thought faltered when he realized where he was going with it. He’d had a few girlfriends over the years, gone on a fair handful of dates. Over the past three or four years he’d been a bit more choosy, but he’d never met someone who made him want to settle down.

Cam punched him lightly in the upper arm. “Until then, I’m the server of your dark roast.”

And his girlfriend, he added mentally. How was he going to get her to agree to a date?

* * *

She’d pushed the cup of coffee across the counter with a smile like she was happy to see him, but he’d decided she looked too tired to be working after he’d sat in his chair and watched her serve a steady stream of customers for the past thirty minutes. Paul wished he could take some of the workload off her shoulders. Not that he could afford it. They’d just gotten back in town from games in Phoenix and Dallas and he needed to leave in about forty minutes for practice. He’d told himself that he was going to go in early to get his workout in before practice, but the desire to see her had been too strong.

“I watched your game on Saturday. Or, I watched half of it.” She had appeared in front of him while he’d been staring out the window, thinking of her.

Paul looked up and noted the slightly darker skin under her eyes, the way her lids drooped just the slightest bit, and the way her shoulders slumped. It wasn’t obvious, but he’d gotten so used to watching her that he could see the strain her schedule was causing. “You look tired, Cam.”

Her smile was sheepish, like he’d caught her. “Is that a nice way of saying I look like hell?”

“No,” he said, “you look great. Just tired.”

She flipped one of the chairs at the table across from him around so she could sit. “How come you never look tired after all those games and all that traveling you do?”

“I guess you get used to it after a while,” Paul said with a shrug.

“So, what do you say? Two years? Three years before I’m used to it?”

“You shouldn’t have to get used to it.” He answered without even really thinking about his response.

She dropped her gaze to the floor between her feet for a few seconds before looking up at him. “How can you not limp in here every day? Those guys hit you really hard.”

He’d momentarily forgotten that she’d admitted to watching the game against the Coyotes. Probably because it had been on later in the evening due to time zones. “It’s not so bad.”

“You’re really good.” Her voice was matter-of-fact and the compliment made him want to puff his chest out in pride. Never mind that she didn’t know anything about hockey; she thought he was good and that was enough for him.

“Thanks,” Paul said, feeling a little shy. “A lot of practice.”

“Your hair is so out of control today that it’s adorable.”

Her comment took him by surprise, and he jerked a hand up to smooth his messy hair into place. Normally he had his routine that did involve a hairbrush, but his anticipation over getting to Starbucks to see her after being out of town for days got the best of him. “It’s got a mind of its own,” he told her.

“It’s cute,” she said with a smile. When Paul’s gaze met hers, he felt heat in the pit of his stomach. Just the way she smiled at him made him feel good, special, wanted, different. It was addictive.

“You sure you don’t have time to get dinner some night?” he blurted out. “I mean, I can skip the hairbrush if that will sway you.”

Cam laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling and her hand delicately covering her mouth like she was embarrassed. “You don’t want to go out with me,” she finally replied.

“I’ve asked you out twice. I think you might be wrong.”

Her face sobered up, and he watched the humor leak out of her eyes. When she caught his gaze again he saw a story in those eyes. The fake smile on her face didn’t fool him when she said, “I’m a work in progress. Not yet ready for public consumption.”

Her choice of words lead his thoughts down dangerously dirty paths that involved his mouth all over her. She must have had the same thoughts because as soon as the sentence left her mouth, she dipped her head as her cheeks darkened in a blush.

“I’m not the public; I’m Paul,” he replied.

Cam laughed nervously. “Yeah, but you know what I mean. My divorce... it kinda messed with my head. Damaged goods and all that.”

“Uh, you’re not damaged goods.”

She smiled at him and this time it was genuine. “Thanks, Paul.”

Silence stretched between them, and he wondered if she felt that tension like he did. It wasn’t sexual tension like flirting with a girl you met it a bar, though the attraction was part of it. This was some strange version of emotional tension, which was fucking with his head. They had no history, no deep feelings. But he still felt like the air was thicker and his heart beat harder when she was looking at him with her dark eyes that seemed compassionate and intelligent, yet hurt.

“So, how long do you plan on burning the candle at both ends with the two jobs?” he asked her after clearing his throat.

Cam shrugged. “As long as it takes. Probably through the end of this year at the very least. If business keeps picking up, then maybe I can cut back on my hours here by then. Although, I’m a little afraid they’ll let me go if I start asking to pick and choose the days I work.”

“Nah, I’m sure they’ll be happy with what they can get of you.” Like me, he added silently.

“I hope you’re right,” Cam replied. “The studio isn’t turning a profit yet, so this job is paying my bills. Things are getting better, though.”

“When you set up those classes for guys--to, like, teach them how to dance at parties--let me know. I happen to know a bunch of awkward guys who need lessons.”

Cam laughed softly and nodded her head. “I will. Would you, uh, be one of those awkward guys?” She seemed shy, looking up at him through her eyelashes. It was definitely a flirty move, and he felt that heat in the pit of his stomach again. So, she’d turned down his offer for a date, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t interested.

“Oh, yeah, for sure. I need a lot of help.”

The bell on the door jangled as two women walked in. Cam glanced over her shoulder and then back to him. She looked disappointed. “Guess it’s back to work for me,” she said, standing up and moving the chair back to its place a the table.

“Cam,” Paul said, stopping her before she walked over to the counter. She turned back around. “Go easy on yourself now and then. Don’t burn yourself out.”

“Thanks, professor.”

“And let me know about those classes. I’m serious.”

She smiled. “I will.”


	3. Chapter 3

She had just finished up her Thursday night pole class. The group on Thursday had been taking classes with her for a couple months and were working on some of the more advanced moves. The gym mats were stashed in the closet and the room looked nice with the soft lights reflecting off the hardwood floors. She watched herself in the mirror as she walked back across the room to put away the paper towels and spray cleaner she’d used to wipe down the eight silver poles.

It had been a long week, and she still had two more days before she got to press the repeat button and do it all again. When she was teaching or dancing, she felt energized and confident. It was in these quiet moments that she felt run down and in danger of failing. It didn’t really help matters that she’d heard through a mutual friend that Jim was getting married to the other woman. Not that she cared about his ass anymore, but the news made her feel lonely, not empowered.

Married to her work now, that’s what she was. Married to this studio and the music that filled it. It didn’t matter that there was no one in her bed at home when she turned in for the night because she was only there for about six hours anyway. Or at least that’s what she told herself.

Cam leaned back against the wall and looked at herself in the mirror again, taking in the bright blue tank top that showed a little cleavage and the black shorts that covered only a few inches of her thighs. The more clothing you wore on the poles, the harder it was to get traction. Cam’s eyes traced the outline of her bust, her waist, her hips. She’d never been critical of herself before the divorce, before he had cheated on her. Now she overanalyzed and saw hips that were too wide, legs that were too short, arms that were too big. She wasn’t a willowy blonde that had five more inches in height and fifteen less pounds. She was short and brunette and compact with a lot of power packed in her small frame. Cam knew she was pretty, but the divorce had derailed her sexuality. Dancing had helped, but when she stopped moving, she found herself floundering again, wondering if she’d ever be able to get that back now that she’d been burned.

She leaned over, picked up the tablet that was connected to her stereo system through Bluetooth, and scrolled through her song selection. She’d been working on a new routine for the advanced pole class and now was as good a time as any to work through a couple of the segments. She found Miguel’s Arch and Point and hit play. Closing her eyes, she let the music wash over her.

Each time she started working on a routine or practicing, she liked to just listen once, let the song speak to her. She’d close her eyes and visualize the moves, the way she wanted her body to twist and bend and turn. Except this time, all she could think about was Paul and the steady way he held her gaze with his own. The way he seemed to care about her wellbeing. The way he’d looked at her with heat in his eyes when she’d danced for him. Those damn glasses he wore that made him look as smart as he really was. His messy hair and the scruffy blonde almost-beard. The way his hands cradled the books he read. She wondered if he would be that careful with her or if he’d be aggressive like he looked on the ice when she’d watched the game last Saturday.

Images of him naked and in her bed, his body pressing hers into the mattress, the sheets sliding over their skin, his mouth on her neck, his breath hot against her ear. 

When the song ended, she hit repeat and stepped up to the closest pole. When the vocals started again, she held onto the pole and walked around twice. The third rotation was done by lifting herself up and wrapping one calf around the pole, her grip firm on the upper portion. Imagining he was watching, she closed her eyes and threw herself into the routine she’d been working on for weeks. She caressed the pole, rubbing her body against it when her feet were on the floor. When she was supporting herself on the pole, she hugged it tight or clamped her leg muscles down, wishing it was him instead of a piece of metal.

God, she had it bad. She’d been disinterested in men since the divorce. Sure, she’d been lonely, but hadn’t really desired anyone until now. The way he looked at her, though. It got the juices flowing down south. It made her want to live in his bed. Which was surprising because he hadn’t really pursued her beyond asking her on a couple dates. She must been severely undersexed if a sweet guy who ordered coffee from her three times a week was getting her this worked up.

The pole was locked behind her knee as she bent backwards, arching her back and letting her head hang upside down. Miguel was singing about how when something feels this good then it just comes natural when she opened her eyes and saw Paul standing in the doorway, upside down, of course. As the pole spun, her body spun with it and for a fraction of a second Cam thought she had hallucinated him. When she came back around, he was still there, eyes wide and a basket hanging from his hand.

As another rotation happened she pulled herself upright and jumped off the pole like it was on fire. Twice. He’d caught her twice. And while she was almost never embarrassed while dancing, she sometimes felt embarrassment when she stopped. Unless she was in the roll of instructor. This was different. This was personal and intimate, and she’d just been fantasizing about him.

Before she said anything, she hurried over to the tablet on the small table and cut the music.

“Hi,” she said before turning back around to face him, hoping the red in her cheeks would fade.

“Hi,” Paul replied. “I swear I wasn’t being a creep. You just seemed into it, and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Cam felt awkward after being caught in such a private moment, but she also felt confused because he was standing there in the doorway looking delicious with a basket in his hand. Why? "It's okay," she finally said, walking over to him and smoothing her hair back in a ponytail. "Don't tell me you're checking on me again."

"Uh, no, not really. I was hoping you might have dinner with me." He looked hopeful as he held up the basket.

"Dinner?" she asked.

Paul nodded. "I brought it. You just have to stop working long enough to eat with me."

Cam felt like he'd knocked the breath out of her body. He'd brought her dinner. What guy did that?

When she didn't respond immediately, he said, "Cam?"

Her name coming out of his mouth pulled her out of her daze. She was probably standing in front of him with her jaw on the floor and her eyes as wide as half dollars. "Uh, yes, dinner. Yes."

He tilted his head to the side and with a smile said, "Yes, you'll have dinner with me?"

"Yes." Cam nodded and smiled. "You, uh, you caught me off guard. I don't think anyone has ever gone this far out of their way to talk me into dinner."

"Well, just asking you wasn't working, so I figured drastic measures might."

Cam laughed softly and dropped her gaze. His was so intense, so focused on her, that it made her want to squirm. Plus, she was in a glorified pair of underwear with a tank top. Not exactly first date attire.

"Could we use one of the gym mats? Maybe have a picnic in the studio?" he asked.

His question made her look up at him again. He was wearing a white cotton t-shirt and a black zip-up hoodie with a pair of jeans. His glasses with the delicate wire frames were perched on his nose and his reddish-blonde hair was combed back away from his face so she could admire how handsome he was. Standing there with a basket of food and that hopeful look on his face made him look like boyfriend material. All those times she'd promised herself not to date went right out the window.

"Yeah, we can use one. Can I throw on a pair of pants while you pull it out of the closet over there?"

Paul flashed her a smile with teeth, like he was happy she was going along with his plan. "Sure."

Before she fell all over him, Cam slipped out of the room to find her bag behind the desk in the small lobby. She slipped on a pair of yoga pants and glanced at herself in the mirror. She could hear him pulling the mat out into the main studio as she touched up her mascara and pulled her hair out of the ponytail to comb it out with her fingers. She couldn't go on a first date with her hair in a damn ponytail.

Still not completely satisfied with her appearance, she stepped back into the studio and found him adjusting a blue and white quilt over the mat. Obviously he didn't pull any punches. How did she luck out by attracting this man's attention? He had been serious about the picnic, and he’d removed his hoodie and was just in jeans and a thin, white T-shirt that looked well-worn. Damn.

"Wow," Cam said, walking over to stand beside him.

Paul smiled down at her. "I hope you like Italian."

"I love Italian."

"Have a seat, then," he told her. After she was seated, he pulled a bottle of wine out of the basket. "I brought bottles of water if you'd rather do that."

"No, wine is good." Cam felt like the smile was stuck on her face. She couldn't wipe it off even if she tried. While he was opening the bottle, she said, "This is a surprise."

"A good surprise?” Paul asked, producing two small wine glasses from the basket and filling both of them with a generous portion of the red.

"A very good surprise. I haven't seen you for three days."

Paul held out one of the glasses for her and settled down next to her with his own. He was close, but not too close. He was actually perfect. "You keep track of when I come in?"

"Maybe. Sometimes." Cam laughed under her breath before glancing over at him and saying, "Yes."

"I have to admit that I come in every time I can. We've been out of town for a couple days, and I went to practice early this morning to get my workout in so I could plan this dinner afterward."

He was looking at the opposite wall and sipping his wine. Finally, he looked over at her and gave her a soft, shy smile.

"You're really something," she said. "I'm not sure what I did to deserve all this."

Paul shrugged and leaned forward to pull the basket closer. "You're you. That's enough."

The simple statement almost made her cry. Damn if it wasn't the exact thing she needed to hear, even if she hadn't really known it. Instead of bursting into tears and scaring him off, she swallowed a sip of the wine and tried to resist the overwhelming temptation to drop her head down on his strong shoulder. It was right there, only inches away.

"I hope you like ziti or chicken parm. I ordered both."

"They both sound great." Anything he wanted to do sounded great.

Out of the bottomless basket he produced two plates, two takeaway containers of food, half a loaf of Italian bread, and two forks.

"You thought of everything," Cam said as he used one of the forks to divide the two entrees, half on each plate so she could have a taste of both the ziti and the chicken parm.

"I might even have some tiramisu in the bottom of here," he told her with a wink. A fucking wink. Cam almost told him to forget the food and just make out with her.

With a laugh she said, "If you're trying to seduce me then you're doing an excellent job."

"Good to know," he said, a grin curving the corners of his mouth up slightly. Before she could reply, he placed a piece of bread on the edge of her plate. It looked crusty on the outside and soft on the inside. Just the way she liked it. "Your fork," he told her, slipping it underneath the piece of chicken.

Cam thanked him and leaned over to the side to set her wine glasses on the floor just beyond the mat. Paul's glass was already safely sitting a couple feet away. They ate in silence for a moment, Cam moaning her approval of the food and Paul laughing at her enthusiasm.

"So, with all these smooth moves like bringing delicious food for a dinner picnic, how are you still single?" she asked, glancing up at him and then back down at her plate.

Paul shifted and took a bite of his bread. After a long moment, he cleared his throat and said, "Never found the right person, I guess."

"Oh, come on. I bet you get tons of dates with what you do. Don't professional athletes pull in all the chicks?"

His soft chuckle sounded just a little on the bitter side. "Yeah, there's lots of girls, but they're mostly just girls. Not women who want a real relationship. And the women usually jet when they realize how hard it is to maintain a relationship with someone who works long hours and travels a lot."

"You seem like a catch." The sentence fell right out of her mouth before she had a chance to filter it.

His chuckle this time was much warmer. "Thanks for that." After a moment of silence in which Cam finished her serving of chicken parm and started on the ziti, Paul said, "Your divorce, was it hard?"

Part of her wanted to give a lame answer that would shut down the conversation, but part of her wanted to spill her guts to him. After she’d left Jim, she’d talked herself out, told all her friends and family everything as a way to purge the bad shit that was poisoning her, and then she stopped talking about it altogether because she couldn't deal with reliving the end of the relationship. But now all those old wounds were covered with scar tissue, and she felt like it was time to talk again. And the man sitting next to her had proven to be a damn good guy.

"Yes," she finally said. "It was."

"Whose choice was it?"

"Mine," Cam replied. "Well, I don't know. Maybe that's a little muddy. I filed, but he made the decision."

"What do you mean?"

"We'd been losing touch. He was spending a lot of time at work, and we didn't talk much beyond what was for dinner. I came home one day and decided to throw a load of laundry in. I, uh, found a pair of panties in his pocket."

Cam glanced up at Paul and saw his eyes widen. The fork that had been heading for his mouth dropped back down to the plate. "No shit?"

She smiled wryly. "No shit. And not a pair of mine. I sat there and thought about all the different ways I could play it. Maybe be real cool and serve them to him on his plate for dinner. Maybe throw them in his face when he walked in the door. Instead I ended up being a pathetic girl, crying when he came in and asking him who they belonged to."

"Anyone you knew?" Paul's voice was soft.

"No, not really. Some woman he worked with. They were 'having fun' according to Jim. He told me we could work things out."

"Did you try?"

"No. I packed a bag and left. Stayed in a hotel the first night because I didn't know how to tell everyone that my marriage was over."

"Damn. I'm so sorry, Cam. That's tough."

Shrugging, she resumed eating her pasta. "It's okay. I'm pretty much over it. Shit happens, right?"

"When you marry an asshole, yeah."

Cam looked up in shock at his comment. The corner of his mouth was tipped up in a grin. She couldn't help giggling. "Oh man, I needed that laugh after spilling my guts."

"Glad I could help," he replied.

"And I needed dinner, too. This is amazing. Stop being such a good guy and making me regret not closing the studio down for a night so we could go on a real date."

"Just so you know, we are on a real date," Paul said. When she looked up from her plate he was smiling.

"Thanks for putting me on notice," she replied with a wink.

They finished in silence and Cam let Paul stow away everything in his magical basket while she finished her glass of wine. She didn't want him to leave, and she felt like maybe he was thinking the same thing, so she tipped the rest of the red into her mouth before disappearing into the pole room for her tablet.

"Where did you go?" Paul asked, looking up at her from his spot on the mat.

"Music?" she asked, dropping down to sit beside him, closer now. He leaned in to get a view of the screen.

"What music?"

"Terrible music," she answered.

"I don't know," Paul replied. "It's starting to grow on me. Even if it's pretty mindless."

"Hey now, don't be mean," she said, elbowing him in the side. She worked hard at suppressing a gasp at the rock hard obliques her elbow hit. She knew he had a nice body under the clothes, but she didn’t know it was that nice.

"Play me something that you think is meaningful.”

"Man, you really do intellectualize music too much,” she said with a laugh,” but I think I have something for you. I've been listening to a lot of Miguel lately and this is a good one.” She pulled up Sure Thing by Miguel and hit play. A moment later the song was playing over the speakers in the studio. Cam lowered the volume so she could still talk to Paul without raising her voice.

The song was about finding the other side to your coin, your other half, and how you'll never have to worry as long as that person has your back. There were so many songs about the sentiment, but she had always liked this one the best. After her divorce, she couldn't stand to listen to it, but nowadays it was just inspiration for one day having a relationship that exemplified what the song was talking about it.

Halfway through Paul said, "I like it. It’s good. It’s nice to hear one that has a deeper feel to it. What about what you were dancing to when I came in? What was that?"

"I was wondering when you’d ask. That was Miguel, too. And more up your alley with the rock influence." Pulling up his most recent album on her tablet, she picked the third song.

It was still decidedly pop or R&B, but it had serious rock influence to it. It wasn't until they were over a minute into it that she realized what the song was about, how it was speaking of letting go and trusting someone with your mind and body. About sex when it's actually more than just sex. Not exactly the best mood music for a first date. Maybe a fourth or fifth date.

“I really like this,” Paul said as he leaned forward and pulled a small plastic container out of the basket. There were two plastic spoons taped to the top of it.

“What’s that?” Cam asked.

“I told you I had tiramisu. But you have to share with me because I don’t have two more plates.”

She smiled at him and took one of the spoons. “I think I can do that.”

* * *

The way he tipped the spoon upside down and laid the tiramisu on his tongue each time he took a bite was driving her crazy. Absolutely crazy with lust. All Cam could think about were his lips, his tongue, the way his arms flexed each time he shifted. And she was hoping that he’d shift closer to her. The music was down a little lower, and she was loving the heat coming off his body.

“You should be proud of this place. It’s beautiful,” Paul said, sweeping his eyes across the room.

“Thanks,” she replied with a smile. “That means a lot.”

“Is this your dream job?”

“Definitely. I always wanted to teach dance, but so many people tried to dissuade me from it because they said it wasn’t a secure career. I caved and went into secondary education even though my heart wasn’t really in it.”

“Did you ever teach school?”

“No, I married Jim right out of college and landed a desk job at a healthcare company. I worked there as a paper pusher until the panties in the pocket.”

“Wow, a divorce and a career change in one year.”

Cam noticed that he’d left the last bite of tiramisu for her, so she scooped it up and ate it before saying, “Yeah, crazy times. I remember sitting on my mom’s couch and telling her that I needed to make a change. I felt like such shit because my life was falling apart, and I couldn’t imagine just going back to work and soldiering on when my marriage was being ripped up and ended. I didn’t even know what kind of change; I just knew it needed to be something big.”

“This is pretty big,” Paul agreed.

“Jim bought out my half of the house so I used that money to start the studio. And regardless of whether this place survives or not, I’m glad I did it. I needed this.”

“Plus, you never would have met me,” Paul said with a cheeky grin.

Cam couldn’t help but smile at him. “Exactly. I never would have met you.” She watched as he tucked the empty dessert container into the basket with their spoons. “Why is it so hard for hockey players to maintain relationships?”

“Uh, is this a good first date conversation?” he asked.

“Uh, was talking about my divorce good first date conversation?” she retorted.

Paul nodded his head, a grin pulling at the edges of his mouth. “Noted. Well, I guess it’s just that we’re gone a lot. The lifestyle can put a lot of women off.”

“Lifestyle?”

“Travel, long hours, uh, puck bunnies.”

“Puck bunnies?”

“Like groupies. Except for hockey players.”

Cam laughed even if she didn’t really think it was funny. She didn’t want him to think she was already hung up on him, but she was and she didn’t like the idea of him sleeping around. “Are you popular with these hockey groupies?”

“Nah,” he replied, shaking his head. “They like to go after the bigger names. I mean, yeah, I have fallen victim to them in my younger years. But nowadays, no, it’s a little played out.”

“Damn, you must be getting old and wise there, professor.”

“I like that you call me professor,” he said. “Makes me feel special to you. Hopefully that doesn’t sound lame.”

Cam shook her head. It made him sound like her dream guy. “No, it doesn’t, and you are special. You are my absolute favorite customer ever.”

“Not your best first date ever?”

She laughed and bumped her shoulder into his. “Oh, of course you are. I thought that went without saying.”

The music was on random and had cycled around to a couple more upbeat songs. She wished it would play some slower ones so she could somehow get closer to Paul.

“So, when are you going to start these classes where you teach awkward guys like me how to dance?”

“Actually, I have one scheduled soon. I’ve been promoting it in the City Paper and on the Facebook pages of a few clubs in town. I’m still afraid that no one is going to come. Dance classes tend to be a more female thing, you know.”

“I’ll come if I’m in town and we don’t have a game. When is it?”

Cam laughed before jumping up in a moment of inspiration. “I give private lessons, too.” She held out her hand. “Come on.”

Paul shook his head, his eyes wide. “Oh no, I’m not a good dancer.”

“Come on,” she insisted, wiggling her fingers. “I’ll take it easy on you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he reached up and took her hand. It was the first real physical contact she’d had with him, and it felt like a jolt of electricity shot straight up her arm when she felt his warm palm press against hers and his strong fingers wrap around her hand.

One of The Dream’s songs was playing, and it was perfect to teach him a couple moves to. Paul let go of her hand once he was standing in front of her, looking nervous and out-of-place. “You better make it really basic. I have no rhythm.”

Cam started nodding her head to the beat. “Bullshit. Nod your head.” The role of teacher made her feel more empowered.

Paul nodded his head, awkwardly at first, but more smoothly after a few seconds. “Am I dancing yet?” he asked with a smile.

“Almost,” she replied, flashing him a smile of her own. “Use your shoulders and chest now. Push your left shoulder forward and up just a little bit like this.” Cam demonstrated what she meant and then pushed her right shoulder forward. “Then your right, then again with your left twice. Then once with the right, once with the left, and twice with the right.” She kept moving and said, “It should feel a little like your rocking from side to side.”

Paul looked stiff with his arms hanging down and his feet flat on the ground. Cam laughed softly. “Loosen up and feel the beat. Lift your hands up just above your hand.”

“What do I do with my feet?”

“Whatever you want. There aren’t any rules. But you don’t look half bad right now with them still. Just loosen up your shoulders.” She slipped her hands between his raised arms and grabbed his shoulders, giving them a squeeze. The man had muscles on muscles. Any guy she’d ever known who had that kind of body was all about showing it off. Paul seemed almost shy sometimes.

“Uh, you grabbing me isn’t relaxing me. Kinda working the opposite way,” he said before winking at her.

Cam let him go and laughed. “I’ll just dance with you, then.” She mimicked his moments, hand ups with her shoulders rocking, but rolled her hips as well. There was maybe a foot between them, and she wanted to close it and feel his body up against hers.

“I feel like an idiot when you make it look so easy like that,” he said, his eyes moving from her face down her body. She could swear that every place his gaze landed caught on fire.

“You look good,” she said. “You’re a natural.”

“You’re just being nice,” he said, smiling and shaking his head.

Suddenly the song quickly faded out and the next started. It was much slower and noticeably sexier. Both their arms dropped and Paul stopped moving, the corners of his eyes still crinkled up from smiling at her. Cam’s heart stopped at the absolute, unadulterated look of pleasure he was throwing her way. All she’d done was sit in the floor of her studio and let him feed her pasta and dessert.

“Slow songs are easier,” she said, stepping forward and slipping her arms over his shoulders. Paul’s hands landed on her hips like this was something they’d done a million times before. Neither of them moved much, but the physical contact was overwhelming to Cam. Her heart was racing as she shifted closer to him and twisted her hip to bump against him. Paul’s grip tightened as he pulled her so close their bodies were touching and Cam felt like she was just rubbing up against him like a cat in heat.

She knew if she looked up, then he’d kiss her. She knew it like she knew the sky was blue. It’d been so long since she’d been touched like this. Jim had spent the last two years of their marriage avoiding moments that involved intimacy. Cam was sure her heart was going to beat right out of her chest, but the fear of really, truly moving on was paralyzing.

Like he understood, Paul’s lips settled on the top of her head as he pressed a sweet kiss there. Cam closed her eyes as she almost collapsed against him. With a surge of bravery that was urged by lust, she tilted her head back and looked up at him. His eyes were soft, reflecting more back to her than just the raw desire he’d been making her feel. It took away every single fear that had paralyzed her just a moment before.

Paul must have seen something in the way she parted her lips because he dipped his head down and brushed his mouth against hers, just teasing her with the idea of a kiss. Cam pushed her chin up a bit more and chased him, initiating the second graze of his lips on hers. Finally, he took pity on her and pressed his mouth to hers in an honest kiss. A simple, uncomplicated, beautiful kiss that sent fire rushing through her veins.

Cam wrapped a hand around his strong neck and placed the other on the back of his head as he came in for another kiss. This time she could be ready to hold him there for longer, force him to give her a real kiss that was going to satisfy some of that simmering desire he’d been building up in her for weeks. Months, maybe.

He didn’t disappoint when he parted his lips and flicked the tip of his tongue out to brush her lower lip. Cam made a plaintive, needy noise that seemed to spur him on, making him come harder and slide his tongue out and between her parted lips. Cam touched his tongue with hers, taking the lead when he gave it up. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion until he pulled back and broke the kiss. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, feeling out of her depth.

“That’s definitely the best first kiss I’ve ever had,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Uh, yeah, definitely,” she replied, sliding her fingers through his hair. The movement must have done something to him because suddenly he was kissing her again, this time more demanding, more desperate.

Moments later, they were both kneeling, never breaking their kiss. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for months,” he confessed when they broke to take a breath.

“Ditto,” Cam said, folding her legs under her and then to the side so she could lower herself to a seated position.

Paul, still on his knees, leaned over her and she leaned back until she was propped up on her elbows with his body hovering, his hands braced on either side to keep him from falling on her. Reaching up, Cam wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck. The touch made him descend on her, one hand burying itself in her hair and his hips easily sliding between her legs.

While he kissed her, she ran her hands all over his upper body, from his strong shoulders to his chest to his abdomen that was flat as a board. The thin material of his T-shirt left little to her imagination, and her touch seemed to make him bolder. His tongue slipped a little deeper into her mouth, gliding over her own. His fingers curled a bit more insistently into the strands of her hair as he tilted her head back for a better angle to kiss her. The weight of his lower body settled more firmly into the cradle between her legs.

It had been years since Cam had felt desired like this. His kisses were overwhelming enough, but the way he had her pinned to the ground was driving her wild. When he pulled back from the kiss, she caught his lower lip between her teeth, tugging gently. A combination of a moan and a growl escaped his throat, and he shifted his hips. She could feel his erection pressing insistently between her legs. The obvious reminder of how far they were going so quickly should have bothered her, but she couldn’t drum up the determination to care. Cam had been hell bent on not dating for another eight months just hours before. Now she was wishing she could vanish both their clothes so they could have sex on the floor of her dance studio.

Instead of pumping the breaks, she licked his lower lip with her tongue and slipped her hands underneath his T-shirt. Right before she reached his nipples, the smooth beat of Maxwell’s song cut off and the racket of a bass-heavy, fast-paced rap track started. The shock of it caused both of them to jerk away from each other. Cam almost screamed in frustration.

* * *

Paul had the most uncomfortable erection of all time. It was pressed at an odd angle up the front of his jeans. The fit of the jeans was just a little too snug, causing not only discomfort but a bit of pain. There was no way in hell he could adjust himself with her half lying on the mat, her hair all messy from his fingers and her eyes looking at him like she wanted to rip his shirt off.

Fuck, he thought. This hadn’t really been his plan. He’d only wanted to have dinner, talk, get to know her, maybe steal a goodnight kiss on his way out. Take it slow and maybe drag their flirtation out a little longer since he was enjoying it. Jumping from point A to point D meant that point F was just down the line. And that meant she was either going to dump him because his career came first or he was going to cut her out because she was just like all the others who wanted fame by association or, worse, who wanted the money.

Paul licked his lips, imagining he could still taste her on them. She didn’t seem like one of those girls, though. Not a fame whore or a money whore. She actually seemed like she liked him as a person, and that made him feel really damn good. Maybe she’d stick around. Maybe this could be a good thing. Maybe. He wanted to cross his fingers and make it so.

“Sorry,” he whispered, pushing himself off her and rolling to the side.

She dropped down onto her back, her eyes on the ceiling. “Don’t apologize.” Her voice was soft and slightly amused. “Definitely don’t apologize because it’s pretty obvious I was enjoying that.”

Paul chuckled and rolled from his side to his back to lie next to her. The ceiling was a white expanse of nothing above them. He turned his head to the side so he could see her profile.

“I usually try to be a gentleman on the first date. Walk you to the door and give you a kiss goodnight and all that.”

“What? Are you a total freak on the third date? Bring out the whips and handcuffs?” Cam asked, her voice dripping with dry humor.

“You’ve found me out,” Paul admitted as he traced her delicate ear with his gaze before moving down to the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

Cam looked over at him and smiled. “So, this song really killed the mood.”

“Totally,” Paul agreed. “But maybe that’s a good thing. I mean, I don’t want you to think that I’m easy.”

She laughed at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling up as she smiled. Paul wanted spend every spare moment he had making her laugh like that. It was real, genuine, uncensored. He loved it.

“I had a great time,” he said.

After Cam caught her breath from laughing, she sobered up and said, “So did I. Thank you for dinner, Paul. It was wonderful.”

“My favorite part of the evening was definitely spying on you while you were on the stripper pole.”

Cam sat up and smacked him on the chest, but the smile never fell off her face. “It’s just a pole, not a stripper pole. Get the facts straight.”

“Okay, watching you pole dancing was my favorite part of the evening,” he replied, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t help baiting her because she got his sense of humor, and she looked even more gorgeous with a smile on her face.

“Such a man,” she said as he pushed himself up off the mat and extended a hand to help her up. The thought of pulling her up and into his arms again was tempting, but he’d promised himself that he’d take the slow route this time. He wanted to drag out his time with her as much as possible.

Once Cam was on her feet, he gathered the empty wine glasses and placed them into the top of the overfull basket. “Are you going home now?”

“Probably. You hijacked my evening,” she said. “Not that I mind. It’s actually the best evening I’ve had in a really long time.”

“Same here,” Paul replied.

She walked him to the door of the studio, suddenly looking a little shy. Something about her was so different than any other woman he’d met. Paul just couldn’t put his finger on what. Maybe she was just special, different, unique. Perfect.

“Can you call me so I have your number?” he asked.

Cam nodded and reached over to the desk behind her to pick up her phone. He rattled off his number to her, and she called him. His phone vibrated in his pocket, but he didn’t pick it up. She disconnected the call and said, “Done.”

Instead of pushing the door open, he stepped closer to Cam, looking down at her head. She looked up, her dark brown eyes wide and clear and reflecting back everything he was feeling for her. “Can I kiss you goodnight?” he murmured.

Cam smiled softly. “Do you need to ask after the make-out session on the floor?”

Paul dipped his head and caught her lips with his. What he’d intended as a sweet parting kiss ended up being a bit more when she touched his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. Paul used his free hand, the one not occupied by holding the basket and his hoodie, to hold the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. Cam’s soft moan of appreciation nearly undid him. He almost dropped the basket and backed her up onto the desk. Instead, he pulled his mouth away and sucked in a shuddering breath.

“I’ll call you,” he whispered, pushing the door open. The blast of cold air from outside was a stark contrast to the warmth of the studio. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Paul,” she said.

Unable to properly think, he opened his truck and tossed the basket in the back seat and putting his hoodie back on before turning the engine over. His headlights automatically came on, casting a yellow glow across the front of the building. Cam was still in the doorway, one hand on her hip and the other with her fingertips covering her lips like she was remembering their kiss. He sure as hell was. So much so that he wanted to shut off the truck and go back inside. Fuck waiting and taking it slow. She seemed different. She seemed like someone he wanted to know for a long time. Maybe forever.

Instead, he shifted into reverse and backed out. The drive home was done on autopilot, his thoughts on her and the way she was making him feel. His place was dark when he got there. The light over the kitchen sink illuminated the corner of the kitchen, but everything else was in shadow. Paul wondered what her place looked like. She’d said she lived in an apartment. He hoped it was nice. She deserved something nice. For the first time in a very long time he tried to imagine a woman--her--in his house, in his life. It was something he’d assumed he wouldn’t achieve until he retired from the league. She felt right, though, and that was a little bit scary.

He trudged upstairs and changed into a pair of pajama pants and a fresh T-shirt before flipping on the television to catch the last few minutes of the Rangers and Caps game. When they went to intermission, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen. Missed call and a phone number. Ten digits. And they led to her. He unlocked the screen and asked it to dial back the missed number.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. His heart was in his throat. He really wanted her to answer.

“Hello?”

“Cam?”

“Hi, Paul. Long time, no see.”

He laughed softly and ran his fingers through his hair. “Hey, I just wanted to make sure you got home okay.”

She was silent for a moment before she said, “Yeah, I’m here now. Getting ready for bed. That’s sweet of you to check on me.”

“Are you working tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I come see you?” Why did he feel shy all of the sudden? Why did he feel like it was harder to breathe?

“You want dark roast or cappuccino?”

“Just you.”

She chuckled. “Oh, I’m on the menu now?”

“I hope so.”

“Mmm, maybe for you,” she said, her voice dropping an octave. The sexy tone roused his erection back to life.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“See your tomorrow,” she agreed before disconnecting.

Instead of going to bed, he walked into the kitchen and found his laptop where he’d left it on the granite breakfast bar. He scooted up onto one of the high stools and opened a browser window. A quick internet search took him to her studio’s website. He’d briefly glanced over it weeks ago and again a few days ago when he was planning the dinner around her classes, but now he went through each page, looking at pictures of the studio and candid shots from a couple of her classes. She’d obviously taken them because she wasn’t in any of the pictures.

One of the final items on the menu was videos. He clicked on it and scrolled down through a list of three videos. Going back up to the top, he watched the first. It was a five minute clip of one of her beginner classes. She was in the front and a group of ten or twelve students were fanned out behind her. He watched it twice, unable to take his eyes off her.

The second video was similar, but with a more advanced class that was doing more complicated moves. She made it look effortless. Paul couldn’t speak about anyone else in the class because when she was on the screen then that’s really all he could see.

The final video had a provocative title. He’d seen it during his initial scroll through, but had saved it for last in hopes that it was exactly what it promised. How to Give a Lap Dance. Holding his breath, he clicked play and saw a single wooden chair sitting against a beige wall. He recognized the color from her studio. The hardwood floors beneath the legs of the chair were also a giveaway. And, to his relief, there was no one in the chair. Hopefully it would stay that way. He didn’t want to start dealing with feelings of jealousy already.

Music started, ethereal and yet immediate and sexy. The vocals began right away with a man in a smooth, deep voice singing. The song wasn’t incredibly slow, but it wasn’t fast either. It was right in that pocket that made you think of grinding bodies and sex. Paul almost fell off his stool when she walked into the frame, her back to the camera. She had on pair of cut-off denim shorts that barely covered her ass and a white halter top. A pair of sexy, red heels were on her feet. She stood directly in front of the chair with her back to the camera, her feet shoulder-width apart.

Paul leaned forward, his nose only a few inches from his monitor. She started moving, rocking her hips before she stepped to the side to reveal the chair. Gracefully, she kicked her leg out the side and turned her body so she was facing the camera. Hair long, dark hair fanned out and settled back down on her shoulders for just a moment before she bent over at the waist, her back flat. Slowly she dragged her hands up her sides to linger at her breasts before lifting herself back up and bringing her feet together.

His jaw almost hit the table when she rolled her body, from her chest down to her hips, bending her knees with with each undulation until she was squatting in front of the chair. She straighten her legs, but kept her chest lowered to show her ass to the chair again.

Fuck. Paul’s hand dropped to his crotch, palming his semi-hard cock. A moment later, it was rock hard as he watched her turn her back on the camera and lift one of her feet, balancing it on the edge of the chair. Her hands gathered her long hair and lifted it off her neck as she rolled her body again.

He watched for another few seconds before he couldn’t take it and shut the lid of his laptop. Taking a deep breath, he slipped a hand into the fly of his pajama pants and touched himself over the cotton boxers. And then he opened the lid and pressed play on the lap dance video again. It started from the beginning, and it only took him two of the four and a half minutes to come all over his underwear.

While she was straddling the chair, her hand braced on the back of it, he closed the lid again. She was an enigma, looking so confident and sexy when she was dancing and so sweet when she was standing there looking at him like he was someone she wanted to really know.

Paul climbed the stairs to the second floor, his mind all over her and every thing she did and said. Within a few minutes he’d cleaned himself up and slipped into bed. A bed he wished like hell he was sharing with her.


	4. Chapter 4

The parking lot was almost empty even if it was still a little early. They had a game tonight, and he needed to be there for morning skate by eleven. He tried to time things so that he arrived after the Wednesday morning rush but with enough time to spend with her before he’d have to leave for work.

Paul felt a surge of adrenaline when he walked in the door and there wasn’t a soul in the place except for the beautiful woman standing behind the counter with a smile on her face. As he walked toward her, he wondered what he should do. What he wanted to do was walk behind the counter and kiss her until they were both out of breath. Bits and pieces of the video from last night kept popping into his brain.

“Hey you,” she said when he got up to the counter.

“You look pretty today,” he said, suddenly feeling all mixed up now that they were in the same room. He wanted to fuck her against the wall and sit down and talk with her until he knew everything in her head and kiss her sweetly or maybe shove his tongue down her throat. The dual lines of thought--ravenous desire for her and a need to cherish her--were waging a war and really throwing him off. Paul would agree that he’s a more quiet, introspective guy. But she made him feel bashful and shy sometimes, which was something unusual.

Cam’s smile widened. “Thanks. Even if you’re just buttering me up since I know I’ve got bags under my eyes.”

Paul looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was around, then he slipped behind the counter and grabbed a cup from the sleeve just to the right of the register.

“What are you doing?” she asked, turning around to watch him walk over to the carafe that held his precious dark roast. He could feel her eyes on him.

“Getting coffee,” he replied as he flipped the lever up and filled his cup.

He put a ten on the counter beside her before setting the cup down, dropping in a packet of Stevia, and popping the lid on. “Isn’t that my job?” she asked.

“I don’t want you to wait on me all the time. Since no one is around, I can get it myself.”

Cam put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side. The corner of her mouth was lifted as if she was trying to suppress a smile. “Is this your idea of chivalry?”

“Maybe,” Paul said. “I had a good time last night.”

“So did I. Thank you for dinner and for good company and for...” Cam trailed off and laughed softly under her breath.

“And for?” he prompted.

“Nothing.”

“Oh, no,” he replied. “You can’t back out of that. What else?”

Her cheeks were flushed, and she was looking everywhere but at his eyes. She was a damn enigma. That video of her dancing made her look like a vixen who would make you beg to touch her, but here she was acting shy and blushing.

Cam finally looked up and met his gaze, still a bit timid and sheepish. “For restarting my libido. It’s been M.I.A. for a few years.”

Paul opened his mouth, but nothing came out. She wanted him? After years of not wanting anyone, she wanted HIM. Fucking her against the wall was sounding better and better. His cock was stirring to life, and that was the last thing he needed at the moment. They were in the middle of an open Starbucks. Anyone could walk in, and he was was still behind the counter where he wasn’t allowed to be.

Her lips looked delicious, and his hands were desperate to touch her again, especially after her bold statement. What kind of loser would have cheated on her and let her divorce him? That Jim guy sounded like a douche. “Come here,” Paul said, crooking a finger at her, beseeching her to close the two feet of distance between them.

Shyly, Cam stepped into his personal space and tilted her head to look up at him. Without touching her, even though the need was almost overwhelming, he bent his head down to brush his lips over hers. The contact was minimal, but he felt it down to his core. He’d never had it this bad before. She tilted her head and brushed her lips back across his. It wasn’t yet a kiss, and the teasing was more than he could stand. Paul slipped an arm around her waist, pressing his hand flat across the middle of her back, and felt Cam melt into his body. Yes, his brain screamed. Yes.

He cupped her cheek with his other hand and finally pressed a real kiss, albeit chaste, onto her lips. She responded by lifting up on her tiptoes and kissing him back. Her kiss was more aggressive, just a bit harder and with her lips parted as an invitation. Paul was not a Saint, and he wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, letting it tangle with her own. Unlike the previous night, the kiss was more leisurely and mellow even if the heat was still there.

Paul wished he could stand there all day and just do this. Feel her body against his while he kissed her until she was weak in the knees. And then he’d lock the door and see if he could get her out of her clothes. Now was not the time, though. If he didn’t step back, then in about twenty seconds she was going to feel his very hard erection pressing against her stomach.

To preserve his dignity and hers, he gave her a final kiss, sweet and lingering, before reluctantly pulling away. His hands went to her shoulders so he could hold her an arm’s length away. While his desire for her still didn’t make that feel safe, it would have to do. “I don’t want to get you in trouble if somebody walks in on us,” he whispered.

Cam looked dreamy with her half-closed eyes and her swollen lips. She flicked her tongue out to lick the corner of her mouth and that almost dissipated every ounce of self control that Paul was pulling out of his reserves. “Right. Yes. Wow. You’re....” Her voice was husky, and he felt proud that he’d put that look on her face and that tone in her voice.

“I’m what?” he asked.

“A really good kisser.”

“That wasn’t all me. Pretty sure you participated.”

“Yeah, but... I... You’re...” Cam trailed off and then shook her head as if she were clearing it. “God, you’ve got me all confused.”

Her off-the-cuff comment made him feel like he’d scored the game-winning goal in overtime. If he wasn’t careful, he’d walk around all day with his chest puffed out, telling everyone that he could get his girl hot with just a kiss. His girl. The thought was exhilarating and scary as hell.

He lifted a hand off her shoulder and ran it through her hair as he laughed softly under his breath. “You’re not the only one. I wish I could see you tonight, but I have a game and we’re going out of town for two away games tomorrow morning. I won’t be back until Sunday morning.”

Paul let her go because if he kept touching her, then he wasn’t going to make morning skate on time and Coach would bust his balls for it. “I have classes all Sunday,” she said, her sweet lips turning down in a small frown.

For a moment that sick feeling of losing someone because of his schedule and his passion for hockey skittered through his brain. This was why things never worked with women like her. She deserved more than stolen moments once or twice a week. She deserved more of his time, and he couldn’t give it to her. Tamping that fear down, he said, “We’ll figure something out.”

“Okay,” she replied. Just okay. No complaint, no demands, no ultimatums. Sure, they were new and neither of them had a claim on the other, but her simple response took such a weight off his mind.

“Since no one is here, will you come sit down and talk with me?”

Cam slipped the ten dollar bill off the counter and tucked it into the pocket of his hoodie. He almost protested, but the look on her face told him that it wasn’t up for discussion. “Sure,” she said.

She declined a cup of coffee because she said she’d already had two since she’d arrived, but she did follow him over to a table by the window where they could watch for customers on their way inside. The corner was cozy, and he had the best view in the house with her sitting right across from him. Stretching his leg out, he moved it just enough to press gently against hers. She didn’t pull back, so he assumed she liked the contact as much as he did.

“Who are you playing tonight?” Cam asked.

“The Devils.”

“Are they good?”

“Yeah, they’re good. I mean, I try not to go into any game with a preconceived notion of whether we’ll win or not based on the other team’s track record. There are just so many variables. There have been times that we’ve been crushed by a team that’s struggling and times we’ve had a bunch of guys out with injuries and still beat a team that is at the top of the standings.”

“But you guys are doing good this year? I heard on the radio that you’re first in the division. Not that I completely know what that means, but it sounds good.” She said the last bit with a grin on her face. Paul thought she looked adorable, and it just made him want to kiss her again.

“We’re holding our own. A lot of injuries this year, especially on D.”

“D?”

“Defense. That’s what I do.”

“I know. I looked you up.”

Paul shook his head. “Don’t believe everything you read,” he said with a smile and a wink.

“Actually,” Cam said, “I didn’t find much about you. Which was surprising since you’ve been playing for the Penguins for years. I mean, there are all these interviews and videos with the other guys and not much on you.”

“I’m small potatoes.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think that’s true. I think you’re just private.”

Her comment struck a chord. He was partially right; he didn’t do as many interviews as some of the bigger names on the team. But she was also right in the observation that he’s private. “I’m quiet,” he said.

“Private and thoughtful,” she corrected.

“Maybe.”

Cam smiled at him. “I like that about you. I admire that, especially with what you do. I mean, you could go out there and throw yourself at the media, get attention, make a bigger name for yourself. But you don’t. That’s... genuine and dignified. I respect that.”

Paul opened his mouth, but for the second time this morning she’d struck him speechless. He’d been complimented before, but the terms she used weren’t ones that people typically applied to him. And she sounded sincere and honest. “I... Wow, that’s... Thanks. I don’t know what to say.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m just saying that I like you. I mean, obviously I like you, but I respect you. And respect is... that’s important.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is. And I have such mad respect for you, Cam. I mean, making those big changes in your life, working hard to get what you want. Hell, you’re a business owner, and you’re younger than me. That’s amazing.” Paul knew he probably sounded like a gushing fan, but he needed her to understand that this was definitely a two-way street.

She dropped her gaze and he saw the flush on her cheeks like the praise embarrassed her a little. Part of him thought it was cute, but part of him was upset that compliments would embarrass her. She deserved them.

“Thanks, Paul,” she said softly, looking up and meeting his gaze again.

* * *

Sid, Tanger, and Bortuzzo had agreed to go bowling. Paul didn’t really want to go bowling because he was not that great at it, but he’d talked the other three men into going and bringing dates so he had a reason to see Cam. After their plane landed in St. Louis on Thursday morning, he called her, hoping she could answer if she was at work. Hoping she liked bowling. Hoping she was available on Monday night.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey you,” she replied softly. “I thought you were out of town.”

“I am. We just landed in St. Louis. Heading to the arena for morning skate and then over to check into the hotel.”

“Fun times,” she said.

“Listen, some of the guys and I are going bowling on Sunday night and I was wondering if you’d be interested in...”

“Yes.” Her answer was immediate. He’d been expecting to have to talk her into it after she’d been so reluctant to go to dinner with him.

“Yes, you’ll come?”

“I hope you’re going after six thirty. My last class ends then.”

He’d specifically left the time open because he had no plans on Sunday beyond practice in the morning. He knew the other guys would be available too. “How about I pick you up at your place at seven?”

She was silent for several long moments. “Okay. Seven on Monday. I hope I can rent shoes because I haven’t been bowling since I was ten years old.”

“Yeah, you can rent shoes. See you then?”

“Sure. Are you going to give me a lessons?”

He smiled as he rolled his suitcase out the door and queued up to board the bus waiting for them. “I’m not as good as you think, but I’ll give you lessons. Mostly because that means I get to be close to you.”

Cam laughed softly. “Maybe that’s why I asked for lessons.”

“Oh yeah? You looking for an excuse to...” He trailed off when someone smacked the back of his head.

“What’s with the cheesy grin, Paulie? You got a girlfriend?” Nealer. Fucking Nealer.

“What was that?” Cam asked.

“Nothing. One of the guys teasing me because you’re making me smile.”

“Don’t let me get you in trouble.”

Paul shifted and turned his back to the group of guys crowded around the bus. “You’re not. He’s just an asshole. And he’d be jealous of me if he knew I was talking to you.”

“What’s so special about me?” Her voice was teasing.

“Everything,” Paul replied. It was the most accurate and most honest answer he could think of.

Cam’s breathy laugh sounded a little nervous. “You’re really good at this.”

“At what?”

“Seducing me.”

“Hmm,” he replied with a smile, “I thought I was just telling the truth.”

“You’re going to make me all mushy and gushy and flustered if you keep doing that.”

“Then I’m totally going to keep doing that because I’d love to see you that way.” Paul dipped his head and walked a few steps away from the guys. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed.

“That is definitely mutual,” she replied. Her voice was lower, sexy. He wondered if that’s what she would sound like in the bedroom as she told him exactly where she wanted his tongue.

The thought of burying his face between her legs and making her come roused his cock. He didn’t need a boner while he was on his way to morning skate before a game in St. Louis. This needed to stop even if he didn’t want to hang up. “Listen, I have to go. We’re about to board the bus. I’ll see you on Monday night?”

“Mmm, hmm.”

“I can’t wait,” he confessed before saying goodbye and hanging up.

* * *

He was lying in the hotel bed in Winnipeg watching Sports Center, but listening to an streaming R&B station with his phone. Most of the guys were wiped from all the travel they’d been doing lately and had decided to stay in the hotel. He was rooming with Scuderi who was lying in the other bed, Skyping with his wife from his laptop. Paul would have felt a little jealous, but his mind was occupied by Cam and how he couldn’t wait to get back to Pittsburgh so he could take her bowling.

The music he was listening to still wasn’t his cup of tea, but it made him think of her and that was what he was going for tonight. They had a game against the Hurricanes tomorrow night and then they’d fly back home. He was looking forward to the coming week because they had a couple days off coming up and three home games in a row. His birthday was also around the corner, and Cam had promised him a cafe breve for it. He wondered if she still remembered.

The next song started caught his attention. For some reason it cut through the clutter in his brain and demanded acknowledgement. It was a little on the slower side. Sexy with a pronounced beat. He could just imagine her dancing to it, and he definitely inserted himself into that empty chair in her video.

Paul glanced at the screen of his phone. Sex Therapy by Robin Thicke. He’d heard of the guy before, but never really paid much attention since that wasn’t his kind of music. The lyrics were provocative, talking about helping a tired, stressed out woman by having sex with her in the way she wanted. Even though he said he never related to these damn songs of hers, he was definitely feeling this one.

Sports Center went to a commercial and Scuderi shut the lid of the laptop before he said something. Paul pulled his earbuds out. “What?” he asked.

“I’m gonna head down to the gym and try to get a few miles on the treadmill as long as Sid’s not hogging it.”

Paul nodded. “Yeah, sure man.”

He jammed the buds back in his ears as the door to the room clicked shut. Robin Thicke was still singing about going as hard or soft as she wants. Before he could second guess himself, he shut off the station, pulled the video for the song up on YouTube, and texted it to Cam with the words “call me” attached.

She didn’t call immediately, and he started thinking about what she might be doing. Probably teaching a class. It was almost eight on a Friday night. She should be out on a date with him. Except he was always out of town, and he couldn’t give that to her. He turned the volume up on the TV and flipped it over to the History Channel before he adjusted his pillow and got comfortable.

At quarter after eight his phone vibrated. He snatched it off the bed and held his breath until he saw her name on the screen.

“Hey,” he said softly when he accepted the call.

“I was told to call you,” she replied.

“Are you working?”

“I just finished up with a class, but I’m still at the studio. Are you working?”

“I’m stuck in a hotel until tomorrow when we play the Hurricanes.”

“So, what’s with the Robin Thicke song?” she asked. Her voice was low and intimate. Seductive. She probably had no idea, though.

Paul licked his lips. “Reminded me of you.”

“It’s a good song. I was actually thinking of working it into a class. Probably a pole class since it’d go well with that.”

“I wasn’t thinking of you dancing to it. Or, I was, but it reminded me of you in another way.”

She was quiet for a moment before saying, “Oh yeah? What way?”

Paul chuckled under his breath. “Are you going to make me say it? You know what way.”

“Are you thinking you might be a therapist or something?” He could hear, even through the phone, hundreds of miles away, that she was smiling.

“Mmm, maybe. And I was thinking that you work so hard and such long hours that you might be in need of therapy.” God, this wasn’t him. Or, rather, it never had been him. He didn’t flirt like this. He asked a girl out and they went on perfectly nice dates and then she left or he cut her off for being a golddigger. He didn’t call girls and try to seduce them with ridiculous R&B songs. Until now, he thought. Cam had that effect on him.

Her laugh was breathy, sexy, just a little nervous, just a little excited. He could hear it all in the way her exhales. “Not to sound easy, but I’m so in need of therapy,” she finally said.

“I’m your man,” he replied.

“You’re the reason I need therapy,” she shot back.

“Watch out or you’ll give me a big head.”

Cam giggled.

“What?” Paul asked, smiling but not understanding what had been so funny.

“I thought you were going to say I’d give you a big something else,” she said through her laughter.

Paul started laughing with her. “Well, that’d be accurate too.”

His reply just caused her to laugh harder. The more she laughed, the more he laughed, the more he felt like she was perfect. She wanted him. He wanted her. She wasn’t backing away from him because he was out of town. She had her own life and wasn’t sitting at home waiting for his call. And he wanted to give her the world.

The last thought was like throwing a blanket on the flames of his laughter. His smile slowly disappeared and was replaced with discomfort. Paul never considered himself someone who was afraid of commitment, but these thoughts of how he wanted to make things long-term with her, maybe one day marry her, made him uncomfortable. Maybe not because it was commitment, but because that meant she could hurt him. He’d be giving her that power after not giving it up for years. The last time he’d let a woman have that ability was when he played for the Devils.

“Hey, I can’t wait for bowling,” she said after she’d composed herself. “I just hope you know that it’s going to be all gutter balls from me.”

“Nah, I bet you’re better than you think.”

“We’ll see. Just don’t get your hopes up.”

Paul rolled onto his side, trapping the phone between the pillow and his ear. Closing his eyes, he said, “I just want to spend some time with you, with or without gutter balls.”

She made a little noise, something between a laugh and a sigh. “I have no idea what I did to deserve your interest in me.”

“You’re you. I’ve been coming in Starbucks to see you for a long time.”

“I thought you were coming in for the coffee.”

“That and you.”

“You’re getting me all flustered.”

Paul laughed softly. “In a good way?”

“Definitely. I regret not agreeing to go out with you when you asked me originally.”

“Obviously, I have ruined your two year plan of no dating.”

“You have, but that’s okay.”

They were both silent for a minute. Finally, Paul spoke up and said, “I should let you go. You probably need to lock up and go home.”

“I do. See you on Sunday?”

“Sunday at seven. Text me your address.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Mr. Therapist.”

He told her goodnight and disconnected. Yeah, he’d rather be her sex therapist than her professor.

* * *

Her place wasn’t the best looking building in town, that was for sure. Probably built in the seventies with cheap material, it look dated and just a bit run down. The dark wood overhang made the place look dumpy. The white paint had faded to a dirty eggshell and was flaking off the building. The front door was glass and he could see inside to a bare lobby with dirty brown carpet. Not the worst place, but definitely not a place she deserved to live.

He shut the truck off, but before he even made it out of the door, she was coming down the three steps that led up to the entrance. Her hair was pulled back away from her face on one side with a gold clip. She was wearing a pair of jeans that hugged every single curve she had, including her perfect, shapely ass. A cream shirt was peeking out from beneath a green peacoat that stopped at her waist. She looked perfect and his disapproval of the building faded to the background when he saw her.

“You look amazing,” he said as he walked over to meet her halfway across the parking lot.

“Thanks,” she said with a smile. “You always look amazing. I have a thing for your glasses.”

Paul was just in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt underneath his coat. Nothing special, but if she liked it then he’d run with it. “My glasses?”

He turned around and walked with her over to his car. “Mmm, hmm. They make you look sexy.” Her cheeks were flushed, but the way she was looking at him, all sassy and full of life, made him want to ditch the other guys and just take her home so they could be alone.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that,” he admitted.

“No way,” Cam said. “You wear them really well. Makes you look all smart and sexy.”

Paul laughed as he opened her door. “Are you making fun of me?” he asked.

“Nope. I thought I was hitting on you.”

Before she could slip into the seat, he grabbed her arm and turned her around to fully face him. Cam opened her mouth to say something, but Paul silenced whatever had been about to come out by kissing her. She responded immediately, sliding one hand into his hair and running the other palm up his chest. His hands were on her hips, pulling her closer.

Cam moaned as he back off a moment. “I’ve been wanting to do that for days,” he explained. His breath was puffing out in little clouds of moisture and hers was doing the same.

“Me too,” she said with a grin. Her fingers flexed in his hair and the contact gave him goosebumps. “I also spent a lot of time crushing on your hair,” she admitted before running her hand over his skull and down the back of his neck. She lifted her hand up and repeated the movement, running her fingers through his hair from his forehead to the nap of his neck.

“I didn’t know you were watching me like that,” Paul admitted in a soft whisper.

“I’d always get excited when you came into the store.”

Paul tilted and dropped his head so he could capture her lips again. She flicked her tongue out to wet his lower lip and slid her hand up from his chest to squeeze his shoulder.

“We should stop or we’ll be late for bowling,” he murmured between kisses.

“Mmm,” she agreed, not pulling away.

Finally, Paul wrenched himself away from her hands and lips. “Okay, bowling. We’re going bowling. The guys will kill me if we don’t show up.”

Cam smiled and slipped up into the seat of his SUV so he could close her door and hurry around the front to his side. She looked gorgeous in her simple clothes with her just-kissed lips. He settled into the driver’s seat and looked at the building in the headlights.

She definitely deserved better, but she was probably putting every extra penny she had toward the studio and advertising her classes. He admired her for that, but he also wanted to help her. However, Paul knew she’d never accept his money as a hand-out. She’d be offended and would probably throw it back in his face. Maybe he could get some of the guys to start going to her men-only class. He’d had problems with other women using him to get to someone else on the team, but she seemed different, so he didn’t mind bringing her around the guys he worked and played with.

“So, just so you know. This is a date and the other three guys are bringing their wife or girlfriend.”

Cam glanced over at him and smiled. “Ooh, second date. What did you say the third date involved? Whips and handcuffs?”

Paul couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

* * *

“I’m Melanie. Mel.”

Cam smiled. She liked the girl already. She’d secretly been worried that she’d end up feeling out-of-place and unwelcome in a group of blonde bombshells that acted like a cast of The Real Housewives. Instead, she found that Mel was incredibly nice and down to earth. “Camila, but I go by Cam.”

Mel shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“So how did you meet your guy over there,” Cam asked, nodding in the direction of Sidney Crosby and Paul who were both in line to rent shoes for themselves and the two girls.

“At work. I, uh, work for his financial advisor. We kinda clicked when he came in.”

Cam smiled. “I love it. Sounds like a romance novel.”

“How did you and Paul meet?”

“Starbucks.”

“Really? Like, getting coffee together? Now THAT sounds like a romance novel,” Mel said, her eyes wide.

Cam shook her head. “No, I work there in the mornings and teach dance at night at my studio that Paul mentioned.”

Mel touched Cam’s arm. “Speaking of the studio,” she said, “I looked it up online last night when Sid said that we’d be bowling with you tonight. I have always wanted to take one of those pole dancing classes. You need to tell me when the next one is.”

Cam laughed. “Sure. The beginner classes are usually on Sunday afternoons. I’d love to have you come.”

“I’m so there. I have a couple friends that might be interested. Is it okay if they come along?”

“Just let me know how many of you are coming so I make sure I have enough room. Right now I only have three people registered, so it should be fine.”

Paul was approaching with two pairs of ugly bowling shoes and a huge smile on his face.

Mel leaned closer and whispered in Cam’s ear. “Just so you know, I’ve never seen him this crazy over a woman, and I’ve known him for almost two years.”

Before Cam could reply, Paul was in front of her and motioning for her to sit down on the bench. Sid and Mel were waving at two couples that had just walked in the door. Obviously those were the other people they had come here to meet. While she was distracted by watching the commotion by the door, Paul had unlaced her boots.

“What are you doing?” she asked, looking down at him as he knelt in front of her.

“Putting on your shoes.”

Cam laughed. “Paul, I can do that myself.”

“Hey, I’m trying to be a gentleman. Let me do my thing.” With care, he pulled off her boots and gently slipped her feet into the rental shoes. All she could think about was how every touch of his gave her goosebumps and how much she wanted him. And not just for one night. Could she actually be lucky enough to find a good man on her first try after the divorce?

As he was lacing the shoes up, a woman with long, blonde hair who looked like she really did belong on Real Housewives walked up and looked over at the striking man who was holding her hand. “I hope you’re lacing my shoes like that,” she said in a French accent.

Her boyfriend or husband whispered something in her ear and she laughed. Then he turned back to Cam and Paul. “I’m Kris,” he said, offering his hand. Cam shook it just as Paul tapped her feet to indicated he was finished. “This is my wife Catherine.” He also had a French accent, but not quite a thick as his wife’s.

“Nice to meet you both,” Cam said, shaking Catherine’s hand as well. “And I think the only reason I got a shoe slave was because this is a second date. He’s obligated.”

“Obligated to do what?” asked a tall, lanky man with a scruffy beard and a tall brunette next to him.

“He’s being a gentleman and helping her into her shoes,” Catherine explained.

“Oh man,” the new guy said. “You’ve got it bad Paulie.” Leaning forward he offered his hand to Cam. “I’m Rob and this is my girlfriend Bella.”

“Nice to meet you both,” Cam said.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Bella said with a smile. “We’re going to grab our shoes.”

Cam watched as the two couples went to rent shoes. They all seemed like such good friends. Cam hadn’t realized how big of a step this date had been until now. He was introducing her to his friends. That was huge. Granted, they had known each other for months, but that was really just surface. They hadn’t started talking until a few weeks ago.

“Come on,” Paul said, taking her hand in his and pulling her over to the lane they had rented. “We’re bowling with Sid and Mel against the late arrivals.”

* * *

“Woah, woah, woah!” Rob called out. “Helping her is cheating.”

“Can it, baby!” his girlfriend Bella yelled over at him. “You bowled my last frame since no one was paying attention.”

“Bella!” he complained. “What the hell?”

“Don’t cheat if you don’t want other people to cheat,” she said with a shrug. Mel and Catherine both laughed at the ridiculous look on Rob’s face.

Paul was standing so close behind her that Cam could feel his breath on the back of her neck. Just the thought of him touching her was driving her wild. “Ready?” he asked, stepping closer and aligning his arm with hers, his fingers wrapping around the bowling bowl that was hanging from her fingers.

“I can’t concentrate when you’re touching me,” she muttered.

“Yeah, me neither,” he admitted. She could hear the smile in his voice even if she couldn’t see his face. He’d offered to help her out by guiding her on the next frame since she was mostly throwing gutter balls as she’d anticipated. The girls weren’t taking things seriously and were talking amongst themselves, but the guys seemed to be much more competitive even if they also were only half paying attention to the game.

“Sorry I suck and we’re losing,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just doing this because I wanted to touch you,” he confessed, sliding his free hand over her hip.

“Paul,” she warned, leaning back into his hard body.

“What, Cam?”

“We’re supposed to be bowling, not making out.”

“Don’t tell Tanger that. Catherine’s practically in his lap.”

Cam glanced over her shoulder and saw the blonde whispering in her husband’s ear before he leaned over and kissed her. Cam would have been disgusted if she didn’t wish she could be doing the same thing with Paul.

“Okay, I’m ready,” she told Paul.

“Step with your left foot, then your right, then your left. On the last step, you want to release the ball. Because you tend to throw to the left, I want you to pretend like you want the ball to stay as far right as possible. We’ll compensate that way.”

She looked back at him. “I thought you sucked at bowling, but you’ve gotten a couple strikes and it sounds like you know what you’re doing.”

“Lucky night,” he said. “I’m feeling good since I’m with you. And everyone loves you.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

“I just do. Are we going to get a strike or what?”

Paul wasn’t a very bossy guy, but when his competitive side came out this evening she could see little glimpses of a take-charge man. And while it might have been a turn off coming from some other guy, it was totally hot coming from him. She could just imagine him coming home late at night from a game and waking her up by telling her to take off her panties and get on her knees. And instead of using her after bossing her around, he’d worship her like the incredibly nice guy he was.

Cam pushed her butt back into him, causing Paul to grunt in surprise. “Don’t test me, Camila,” he whispered in her ear. His hot breath and words made goosebumps break out all over her body. “You’re already driving me crazy.”

“Do you two need a room or are you gonna finish this frame?” Sid asked from his seat by Mel. His arm was thrown around his girlfriend and she was trying to hush him.

“I watched your video,” Paul murmured in her ear, ignoring the three guys groaning in frustration behind them.

“What video?”

“Lap dancing,” he said.

Cam felt her face go red. “I thought I took that down.”

“Nope.” He flexed his hand on her hip. Her panties were probably a rainforest after the make out session when he picked her up and all the little touches and whispers he’d been giving her all evening. It was all innocent, but just the thought of Paul got her motor running, so his hands on her anywhere at all was sending her into overload.

“What’d you think?” Cam asked.

“That I’m jealous of your chair.”

“So, I’m getting you a lap dance for your birthday on Wednesday?” she teased.

The hand on her hip slide forward to press on her abdomen, locking her against his body. “You remembered my birthday?”

God, his hand on her was really distracting, and it’d be so easy for him to slide it down into her waistband and then into her panties. “Of course I did.”

“Come on!” Rob and Sid both yelled.

“Guess we better do this,” Paul chuckled. He moved his hand back to her hip and said, “Remember. Left, right, left and release.”

“Got it.”

Cam took a deep breath and listened to him count to three. On three she stepped forward with her left foot and then her right. He dropped back a bit, but still followed her movements, his hand never leaving the ball that was hanging from her fingers. On the final step, she slid the ball forward and released it to the right. She was worried it would tip over in the gutter, but the control he exerted on the ball from behind pushed it more toward the center. It smoothly rolled down the lane and smacked into the pins, knocking every last one over.

“Oh my god,” Cam said, shocked at what they’d just done.

* * *

With her strike and two more from Paul and Sid, they squeaked by with a victory. Everyone said their goodbyes, Mel promising to call with a head count for a beginner pole class one Sunday. Like a true gentleman, Paul walked her over to the passenger door of his black SUV and opened it for her. Cam pulled herself up in the seat and watched him round the hood of the vehicle. He looked good. Really good. His hair was a little haphazard and the glasses were the ones with the black frames that stood out on his face and made him look like a sexy nerd.

They talked about everyone she’d met that evening on the drive home. Paul seemed close with his teammates, and she was glad to hear that they genuinely got along. She confessed that Mel had asked for pole dancing lessons and that she got along well with her. The comment seemed to make Paul incredibly happy. Maybe he really did want her to fit into his everyday world.

“Here’s my stop,” she said as he pulled up into the small parking lot of her apartment building. She’d been mentally debating with herself if she should ask him in. One minute she was convinced that it should wait until they’d gotten to know each other better and the next moment she thought she might go crazy if she only had fantasies of him to keep her busy at night.

“Thank you for coming tonight. I hope you had a good time,” Paul said, turning in his seat to face her.

“I had an amazing time. Thanks for inviting me. I haven’t done something like that in years.” Silence stretched out between the two of them. Finally, Cam cleared her throat and said, “Do you want to...”

“Don’t.” Paul’s single word cut into her question so she couldn’t finish it. When she looked at him in confusion, feeling a little hurt that he didn’t want to come inside, he said, “Don’t ask me because I’ll say yes, and I don’t want to take advantage.”

“You’re definitely not taking advantage,” she said.

“But I like you more than rushing things,” he replied.

Cam opened and closed her mouth, unable to find words to express what she was feeling. Nervousness and disappointment to be sure, but also tenderness and a sense of being cherished. What guy didn’t come in when invited because he didn’t want to rush into sex on the second date? Paul Martin, that’s who. She remembered when she was covertly watching him before they got to know one another. She’d pinned him as the kind of guy who would wait a few dates before sleeping with a girl just so she’d be good and hot for him. Maybe she should have been a psychologist instead of a dance instructor.

“Do I at least get a goodnight kiss?”

“You bet you do,” he whispered as he leaned over the console and grabbed the back of her head with his big hand. Tilting his head, he covered her mouth with his own. Parting his lips, he sucked her lower lip into his mouth, gently nipping it with his teeth. Cam moaned and grabbed his wrist with her hand. As if her panties weren’t already soaked enough after all the innuendo and promises and touching. Even innocent touching from him was enough to send her halfway to the moon.

Paul pulled back and sucked in a shuddering breath. “Now you have to go inside before I change my mind.”

Cam licked her lips, remembering the way he had kissed her. God, he was so good with his mouth. “See you later, then?”

“See you tomorrow. I’m coming to your dance class for men.”

Cam’s eyes widened. “Is that right?”

“That’s right,” Paul replied. “Will you have room if I bring a couple of the guys with me?”

“Of course.”

“See you at six-thirty, then.”

Paul leaned forward and gave her another kiss. This one was sweet and soft, a true goodnight kiss. Before she threw herself over the console and into his lap, Cam grabbed her purse off the floor and opened her door. She made her way across the parking lot, at once hoping and worrying that he was watching her. She knew he was because the glow of his headlights were still illuminating the front of the building. When she got to the door and opened it, she turned around to look at him. Paul gave a little wave, but didn’t pull out. She waved back and went inside. As she turned to go up the stairs, she saw him put the car in drive and pull out.

How was she going to teach him to dance tomorrow when touching him set her on fire?


	5. Chapter 5

He walked into her studio with four other guys. She recognized Sid from bowling and from seeing his face plastered all over the city. She didn’t recognize the other guys. He introduced them as Beau, Olli, and Brandon. Hockey players had odd names. The first two looked like they were barely out of their teens, and the third looked like he was somewhere in his mid-twenties along with Sid.

They joined four other guys who had already arrived. She’d decided to market the class as a workshop. Class seemed more formal and indicated that they’d have to make a commitment to attend multiple sessions. She wanted this to be informal and a one-time deal if they just wanted to brush up on their skills and feel less awkward in social situations. Cam was hoping that word of mouth would spread and these guys would send their friends.

While the other men in the room seemed shocked and rushed over to greet the hockey players, Paul greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and a hand at the small of her back. “Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi,” she replied. “You’re sweet to bring all of them.”

“Sorry we’re a little late. I tucked an envelope with their payments under the calendar on your desk.”

“Paul, you guys don’t have to pay. My treat.”

“No way. This is your business, and we respect that. You get paid to teach us to dance. Beside, those guys can afford it.” He pulled back and looked at her. “You look beautiful.”

Cam felt the blush creeping up to burn her cheeks. “Stop it,” she told him with a playful smack on his shoulder. She had opted for a pair of white shorts and a loose tank top. She wanted something that was easy to move in, but not too revealing or sexy. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

“I’m serious. I bet they’re all jealous of me,” he whispered, jerking his head over to where all the guys were standing.

“Come on, let’s get to work,” she told him as she rolled her eyes and tried to will away the red in her cheeks. To the entire room she said, “If you all want to stand in a semi-circle here, we can start. Leave a few feet of space between yourselves.”

All the guys shuffled over to stand around her.

“So,” she said, clapping her hands together and settling into the comfortable role of teacher. “First, my name is Cam. Obviously I’m your instructor. We’re going to start with some basics. A little step-touch, a little rocking. Once you guys are comfortable with that, then we’ll move on to address specific questions you might have. Maybe look at different situations and work out how to handle them without feeling awkward. Deal?”

All the guys nodded their heads, a couple of them verbally adding affirmations.

“So, we’re going to start with a little step-touch. You want to step out with one foot and bring the other in to touch the ground like this.” She demonstrated before stepping out with the other foot and stepping in again. “Just alternate. Go ahead and try it without the music first. Get used to the flow. Once we get some music going, listen to the beat and step with it, maybe throw in your own flavor if you want. The most important thing is to do what feels natural and easy.”

They were all shuffling back and forth, most of them looking awkward and maybe embarrassed. Beau and Olli were laughing at each other. She smiled at Paul before picking up the tablet and starting Q-Tip’s song Ride. It was upbeat, but not too fast. Within twenty seconds, all the guys had fallen into sync with the beat of the song. She joined them, stepping and tapping, encouraging them to move more, get their arms into it. Sid and Brandon looked like they were competing. Two of the guys who had just shown up from her ads over the past two weeks were getting into it, sliding across the floor when they brought their feet in to tap. She tried to encourage them to continue along that line, feeling the music and doing what felt good and natural.

Paul was just watching her, his eyes intense and a small smile on his face. She tore her gaze away from him and focused on the other guys in the room. They were paying for a class, not to watch her flirt with Paul. “You all look great. Now let’s try a little forward rock. We’re just going to spice it up a bit by leaning into it.”

She demonstrated by stepping one foot out in front of her and leaning her upper body, especially her chest, forward and then rocking her weight back onto the foot behind her as she leaned back. She repeated the move, letting the guys see the basics. As they all picked up the steps, she started rocking her shoulders and watched as the guys alternated between mimicking her movements and focusing on perfecting what they were doing.

The steps were elementary, so they all had no problem picking them up and adding their own flair. Paul kept things simple, and he kept his eyes on her. She wondered when she’d be able to get him alone. He probably came with the other four guys and that meant it wouldn’t be tonight.

Just as the guys were getting into it, alternating between the step-touch and the forward rock on their own, the song ended.

“You all look great,” she said, clapping her hands. “Before I start the next song, does anyone have any questions? Anything you’d like to be able to do? Remember, you want to start small. You won’t be able to dance like Usher tonight.”

Beau raised his hand. “In, like, a club, how do you, like, dance with a girl?”

Brandon and Sid started laughing along with one of the other guys. Two of the students who hadn’t come with Paul weren’t laughing, but nodding in agreement. “Yeah,” one of them said, “That’s what I want to know how to do.”

Cam smiled. “You want to know how to dance up on a girl.”

“Yes,” five of the guys replied in unison.

“Okay,” Cam said. “I need a volunteer.”

Four hands shot into the hair. Paul’s was one of them. She avoided his gaze and pointed at Beau. “You wanted to know, so you get to be my dance partner.”

Beau’s cheeks were flushed red, but he didn’t hesitate to step forward and stand beside Cam. Paul’s gaze was hot. He didn’t look upset because there was a slight grin lingering on his lips, but he did look a little jealous. Or maybe she was just making that up because she wanted him to like her enough to be jealous.

“So, the thing is, you want to be smooth about it. You don’t want to just walk up to a girl on the dance floor and start bumping and grinding. She’ll get turned off and walk away. Feel things out, try to catch her eye. If she makes eye contact, then she’s probably receptive.”

The guys were bobbing their heads, eyes wide, all ears. It was almost comical. If she could pull this off, then they’d all be going back and telling their friends to come see her so she could teach them how to pick up girls at the club. She smothered her smile and said, “You want to warm her up first, like saying hello. And then you want to stick to simple dance moves that you can easily switch between to keep things fun and entertaining for her.”

She looked over at Beau. “So, let’s see your moves, Beau. Give me a little hello. You want to dance around me, do a little step-touch or a little rocking as you approach. Maybe put your hands in the air so you don’t seem to stiff,” she told him.

Beau stepped back and assessed her. A couple of the guys were already razzing him, telling him he couldn’t do it.

“Ignore them,” she said. “Just do what feels comfortable.”

She started the music. It was Jason Derulo’s Talk Dirty to me. The music was loud and brash from the beginning. Beau looked lost for a moment, so she started dancing rocking her shoulders and switching her hips back and forth. Following her instruction, he approached, mimicking her movements, albeit a bit more awkwardly.

When he got up to her, she raised her voice to be heard over the music. “Step up beside me and give me a little bump.”

Beau’s eyes were wide. He obviously had no idea what she was talking about. Cam smiled and pushed her hip out to the side to bump against his. After two more bumps, he realized what she was doing and picked it up himself. She slowly turned until they were bumping their butts together and then the opposite hips. He was still an awkward kid, but he wasn’t half bad.

Cam put her hand on Beau’s shoulder and sent him back to his place. “Next volunteer?”

One of the twenty-something guys to her left lifted his hand, and she motioned him to come up. “Don’t just walk up,” she reminded him. “Warm me up.” He did a bit better than Beau at approaching while dancing. Instead of telling him what to do, she disappeared behind him and started rolling her upper body from side to side, appearing on his left and then on his right. It took him a moment to realize what was going on. “I like to call it ‘Where’d He Go’,” she said, “Now you try.”

The guy smoothly moved behind her and rolled from side to side. Cam leaned in the opposite direction so she could glance back at him as they dance. “Now, if you’re feeling confident that she’s with you, you can put your hands on her hips.”

The guy didn’t need to be told twice; his hand landed on her hips. Cam looked up and saw Paul watching with a stern mouth and burning eyes. Yeah, that was jealousy. She looked away quickly and stepped away from her dance partner.

“Final move,” she said. “Brandon?” she asked, waving Paul’s teammate up. He’d been one of the guys who had originally offered to volunteer. “Give me a little warm up and then we’re going to lean forward and back.”

He danced up to her, putting his hand lightly on her hip when he found himself behind her. She could tell that he was comfortable in a club. Not a fantastic dancer, but he’d done this before. She turned to face him and leaned back, then forward. He picked up the move easily, leaning forward as she retreated and back as she came forward. Their chests were just a few scant inches from touching, and when she put her hands in the air, his hand went to her waist.

Cam looked past her arm to see Paul, his arms crossed and his eyes on Brandon’s hand on her waist. He probably thought she was teasing him. She pursed her lips to hide her smile.

The song abruptly ended, and she and Brandon stopped moving. He retreated back to his spot between Sid and Olli.

“So, you want to warm her up between each move. If you go jumping between moves, you’re going to confuse her. Give her a chance to ease into it and pick up what you’re doing.” She restarted the song and crooked her finger at Paul.

His eyes went wide.

“Come here, Mr. Martin.” He took two steps toward her and she added, “Remember to warm me up.”

The heat in his eyes was enough to ignite her panties. Doing as she’d taught him the night they’d had dinner, he rocked his shoulders back and forth as he step-tapped his way up to her and moved behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at him and rolled her body to the left, starting at her neck, then her shoulders, her chest, and finally her stomach. Her hips stayed put. She went to her right as he went left. Cam almost gasped when his hands landed on her hips and then slid around to the front to press against her hip bones, just above the intimate place between her legs. It felt possessive and bold, and she couldn’t breath. With what felt like reluctance, he released her and moved to the side so he could bump his hip against hers. Cam finally caught her breath and met him halfway.

Taking her hand, he slid over to stand in front of her and lifted her arm like he wanted it out of the way so he could see her body. Good lord, he learned fast. When he dropped her hand, he leaned forward, pushing his chest into her. She leaned back and then pushed into him. For a moment they mimicked what she and Brandon had done, but in no time she was almost riding his leg, her breasts pressed up against his chest. She rolled her stomach as they moved back and forth.

The class faded away, and all she could see or feel was the heavy beat of the song and Paul. Just as his thigh was wedged between her thighs, her leg was between his so his crotch was brushing up against her.

His hands were on her hips again, and he was pulling her closer. Like she could get any closer. The song suddenly cut off again, and she jerked away from Paul. He looked intoxicated, his pupils dilated and a dreamy look on his face.

Cam cleared her throat. “So, that’s how you do that. Easy peasy.”

The guys were all standing there staring at her and Paul. Sid was had a smug smile on his face, and Olli’s jaw was hanging open along with three of the other guys.

* * *

After getting pictures and autographs of Paul and his teammates, the four other guys left. They had all thanked her copiously and asked if they could come back with buddies of theirs to learn more. Olli and Beau were trying to instigate a dance-off with Brandon on the sidewalk in front of the studio, and Sid had gone out to start the Land Rover they had all arrived in.

“Were you trying to make me jealous,” Paul asked once they were alone.

“Not really. But maybe a little,” she said with a cheeky grin.

He chuckled and grabbed her waist to pull her closer. “I didn’t like seeing the other guys dancing with you.”

“Mmm,” she said, unable to wipe the grin off her face. “But you were the best dancer.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm, hmm. Definitely.”

He dipped his head down and kissed her deeply. There wasn’t any tentative brushes of his lips or little soft pecks. It was a full-on, knock-your-socks-off smooch.

Someone banged on the door. Cam glanced up just as Brandon pushed the door open. “Are you coming with us or are you two getting it on?” he asked Paul.

Paul dropped his forehead and pressed it against Cam’s. “Looks like my ride is leaving. Are you working tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll see you then.”

He dropped a kiss on her forehead and then another gentle kiss on her lips before slipping out the door.

A few minutes later, she was home and brushing her teeth when the cell phone in her back pocket started ringing. She quickly rinsed her mouth and answered the phone without looking at the caller ID. She knew who it was.

“Just making sure you got home safely,” he said when she answered.

“I did. And that’s sweet of you. Want to come over?”

“Don’t tempt me, Cam,” he replied, his voice husky and sexy as hell.

* * *

Cam wasn’t sure what he had done to her, but as soon as he walked in the door, she knew it. Her body knew it. She had her back to everyone as she fixed some guy’s mocha latte, but she knew that bell on the door said Paul.

She dropped off the mocha latte and turned to the register to see Paul standing there in his wire-frame glasses. He smiled when he caught her eye. It had been a busy morning, but things were starting to slow down. There were, however, a couple customers lingering over in the corner.

Seeing Paul made the tiring morning just fade away. She poured him a cup of dark roast and took his money like he was any other customer. What other customers didn’t get was a kiss. He leaned across the counter, and she leaned forward to meet him, as if she’d been pulled in by his gravity. Compared to some of their other kisses, this was one was chaste. They had an audience after all.

“So, I have a game tonight, but I was wondering if you’re free tomorrow.”

“My last class ends at seven.”

“Will you let me cook you dinner?”

Cam raised her brows. “You’re going to cook me dinner?”

“Baked chicken with asparagus and roasted potatoes?” He looked hopeful and sweet. She felt her heart banging into her ribs. What did she ever do to deserve a guy like him right out the dating gate?

“Yes. I’ll be there around seven forty-five? Is that too late?”

“No, I’ll text you my address.”

“And what should your birthday present be?” she asked. She hadn’t forgotten it was his birthday was tomorrow.

Paul smiled and gave her a wink. “You’re my birthday present.”

And with that he was out the door and on his way to practice or morning skate or whatever that was called.

* * *

Paul lived in one of the cookie cutter houses in a relatively new subdivision. Red brick with tan siding, an extra-wide driveway, a small lawn, and a two-car garage. Totally nondescript and, oddly enough, fitting. The house was comfortable, but didn’t have that lived-in feel. Probably because he was out of town so often.

She ran her fingertips along the granite countertop in the kitchen. Paul was busy tending to the chicken in the oven. Everything smelled delicious and not just because she hadn’t eaten since noon.

His place was spotless with just little touches of his personality. A bookcase filled with books, most of which looked like they’d never been touched. She remembered him telling her that he should read more. A couple awards he’d won during his career playing hockey hanging on the wall in the hallway. A deformed throw pillow on the couch that he probably used as an actual pillow when he fell asleep watching TV downstairs. A quirky little stand that looked like a tiki mask which held a pair of his glasses. She walked by the staircase leading to the second floor. His bedroom was probably up there. She desperately wanted to see it.

Instead, she sipped her wine and walked back through into the kitchen. “I love your house.”

Paul pushed his hair back from his forehead with his arm as he cut into the baked chicken breast to make sure it was done. “Thanks, but it’s pretty sterile. I’m not great at decorating, and I’m not here a lot. My mom threatened to come in last year and fix the place up.”

Cam scooted up onto the stool at the breakfast bar. “Are you close with your family?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” His back was to her, but she could hear the sincerity in his voice. “They’re all amazing.”

“You miss them?”

“Yeah, but I get to see them during the summer. I like to go home for a few weeks and visit. My mom makes me stay in my old bedroom.”

Cam laughed. “Do you still have Spiderman sheets?”

Paul looked over his shoulder. “Superman sheets, actually.”

She shook her head at him, but couldn’t shake the smile. There was just something about him that made her forget about all the stress and worries and exhaustion. If Paul was around, then it was her and Paul and nothing else. It felt good, but it also felt a little scary since she knew that meant she was falling hard and fast.

“Do you want to eat here or at the dining table?” he asked.

There was an empty stool beside her, and it was close. Closer than a chair at the dining table would be. “Here is fine.”

He slid both plates onto the counter in front of her before disappearing into the dining room. Paul returned with a small glass platter that held three lit pillar candles and a remote. The candles were sat in front of her and a click of the remote started Miguel’s Adorn. It was the first track on the album she’d played him songs from the night they’d had dinner at her studio.

“Wow,” Cam observed, looking from the candles to the food to him.

“Did I do okay?”

“Uh, better than. Isn’t this supposed to be your birthday? Why are you waiting on me?”

“Because I want to,” he replied, taking the seat next to her. They were so close, his elbow brushed against her arm when he picked up his fork. “I hope you like the food.”

“It smells like heaven,” Cam said, cutting a piece off the chicken breast and popping it into her mouth. It was flavorful and tender. “Mmm, Paul, this is delicious,” she moaned as she speared a potato and bit into it.

They ate in relative quiet, the music a gentle background noise, not too loud or too soft. “Did you like the Miguel album?” she asked.

“I did. I owe you one.”

“Well, that’s good because I owe you a million. A picnic dinner at my studio? Teaching me how to not suck at bowling? A home-cooked dinner at your beautiful house? Tell your mom and dad they did an amazing job raising a gentleman.”

Paul stuck his fork into an asparagus spear. “Maybe you can tell them one day.”

Cam’s heart shot into her throat. What was that supposed to mean? “Oh yeah?” she asked

“That was my smooth way of asking if you want this--between us--to be serious,” he said, his eyes firmly on his plate.

She smiled. “It was always serious for me, Paul.”

“Yeah?” he asked, glancing up at her.

She shrugged. “It’s not like I’m getting any younger. You make me feel amazing. And I broke my no dates rule for you.”

Paul pushed his nearly-empty plate away from him and put his hand on her knee. She’d chosen a seafoam green strapless dress with a fitted bodice and a skirt layered with chiffon that hit her a few inches above the knees. His warm hand felt good on her bare leg. “I’m glad you broke your rule for me. But just so you know, I probably would have waited around until later this year when your hiatus was up.”

Cam couldn’t eat any more if he was going to say ridiculously perfect things like that to her. She turned to face him, planning on leaning forward and planting a kiss on him. He let go of her leg and stood up, insinuating himself between her knees and placing his hands on either side of her face.

“I told you that you looked gorgeous tonight, right?” he murmured as he slowly closed the distance between their lips.

“Mmm hmm,” she managed to get out before he kissed her softly and then more insistently.

Cam closed her eyes when he trailed his lips from her mouth down to her chin and then over to the side of her neck. Her trembling hand landed in his hair, mussing it up. “I wish you didn’t have to work in the morning,” he whispered against her skin.

It took her two tries before she was able to vocalize her response. “I don’t. I asked for the day off.”

Paul hummed what she assumed was appreciation and pressed kisses along her collarbone. Every warm touch of his lips sent a shot of fire straight down to the apex of her thighs. “You’re welcome to stay the night,” he said against her breastbone.

Her fingers were clenching a fistful of his hair. “I... I was counting on it.” She shifted as one of his hands slid up the outside of her thigh. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this turned on and hot for someone. If she didn’t stop him now, then she’d forget all about his present and skip to dessert in his bed. The way his hand underneath her dress was close to finding the hip of her panties probably meant that he intended to get there sooner rather than later.

Cam placed her hand over his, the fabric of the dress between them, and used the hand in his hair to pull his mouth off her neck. “Paul,” she said.

He pulled back, his movements stiff. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I got carried away.”

She smiled. “No, it’s not that. I wanted to give you your present.”

Paul pulled his hand out from under her dress. “Cam, you shouldn’t have. I told you that you were my present.”

“Oh, I didn’t buy you anything. I mean, you probably have enough money to get whatever you want. But I do want to give you something.” She pushed on his stomach until he stepped back to allow her to slip off the stool.

He followed behind her as she walked into the living room.

“First you have to tell me where your stereo is.”

Paul point to a shelf over by the TV.

“Do you have an aux input?”

“Yeah,” he pulled a cable out and held it up for her. “I use it for my phone sometimes. Did you bring me a song as a present?”

“Mmm, yes and no. The song is part of your present.” Her nerves were frayed, and all she wanted to do was rip both their clothes off and spend tonight and the next day in his bed. Instead, she took the cord and plugged her cell phone into it, queuing up the song, but not pressing play just yet.

“Stay here,” she told Paul.

Paul smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

When she returned, she was dragging one of the wooden chairs from his dining room with her. It was perfect--simple and armless. Cam situated it in the middle of the floor before walking over to the wall and dimming the lights with the switch she’d seen him use earlier.

“Sit down,” she said, nodding at the chair.

Paul looked like he was in shock. “Oh, God,” he said under his breath. “You’re not really going to....”

“Only if you want me to,” she said, hands on her hips.

“Um, yes. Yes, I want you to. I...” He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead he snapped his mouth shut and sat in the chair.

Cam swallowed hard. He looked sexy as fuck sitting there in a pair of dress slacks and a button-up shirt that was untucked. He was slumped down just the slightest bit, and his legs were spread wide, feet flat on the floor. His arms were dangling at his sides, his fists were clenched. He seemed relaxed, but he wasn’t really.

“I was thinking you might enjoy a live version of the video you said you watched.”

He tipped his head back and pulled in a long breath that pushed his chest out. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice clipped, tense.

She turned the volume up just the slightest bit and pressed play on her iPod. Vicktor Taiwo’s cover of Kiss You was delicious. Dark, seductive, sensual, sweet, velvet.

She took her time walking over to him, deliberately crossing her feet over as she stepped in his direction. The walk swayed her hips and made her legs look longer. Any nervousness she felt before the music started had faded away. That was how it had always been for her. When she was dancing, she was into it. When she stopped, she was embarrassed or felt a little silly. Right now, she was only focused on making sure he’d want to drag her up the stairs and toss her on his bed.

Gently, she grazed the backs of her fingers up her sides until she arrived at her breasts. She let her fingertips trace the edge of her dress, teasing him by pulling it down a bit to show some cleavage. Once she was standing directly in front of him, Cam bent over at the waist and placed her hands on his knees, flipping her hair over to spread on his stomach and lap.

Paul inhaled sharply, but made no move to grab her. Standing back up, she turned away from him and rolled her hips as she squatted down. She reached back and used her hands on his knees. It was easier to dance in that pocket between his legs because she could use him to support herself.

After a couple writhing squats that brought her ass perilously close to the crotch of his slacks, she straightened her legs and bent over at the waist. Cam wasn’t dumb; she knew he had a very clear view of her panties. She’d gone with creamy satin bikinis with black lace trim. She owned a couple thongs, but she wasn’t willing to go full-on hoochie with ass-less panties AND a lap dance.

She folded herself over and shifted her hips, letting her ass sway back and forth. Paul made a strangled noise, and when she glanced over her shoulder, his jaw was clenched tight and his eyes were dark. Instead of letting up on him, she reached back and lifted the hem of her dress just the slightest bit before standing up and facing him, her hands still on the edge of the skirt. She lifted it again as she swung a leg over his right thigh and settled herself lightly on his knee, most of her weight still being supported by her legs.

Cam rolled her body, grinding on his leg. One hand was on his shoulder and the other was buried in her own hair, lifting it up off her neck. Paul sat there, flicking his eyes from her face to her chest to where she straddled his leg. She wanted to rub her body all over his. All the moves she’d planned, all the carefully crafted teases went out the window. Cam leaned forward and rolled her chest against him, her stomach muscles working to allow her to keep her upper body moving like a wave.

It wasn’t until then that she noticed his hands were shoved under his ass. Cam smiled and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Are you sitting on your hands, Paul?”

“Yeah.” It was more of a grunt.

“You know that’s only a rule for when you’re paying for it, right?” She lowered more of her weight onto his thigh, and she could feel all that muscle right between her legs. Her panties were surely ruined by now, and his slacks would be, too. Running a hand through his hair and down to the nap of his neck, she said, “You’re allowed to touch.”

Before she could even take a breath, his hands were all over her. First on her waist, then her back, her hips, her thighs. Releasing him from self-imposed restraint made her lose control of the situation. Suddenly, he was using his hands on her waist to lift her up a bit so he could move his other leg between hers.

His erection was pressed between them as she grabbed his neck and shoulders and started grinding on him. Paul had successfully lifted the skirt of her dress and had his hands gripping her ass. And Cam was pretty sure she was a few seconds from coming.

* * *

Paul was going to come in his pants like a fourteen-year-old boy if the vixen in his lap wouldn’t stop rubbing her body all over him. He wished like hell he could vanish his pants and her underwear so he could slip himself up inside her while she was like this.

He buried his face in her chest, breathing in the subtle scent of her perfume. She tasted so good when he dragged his tongue up her breastbone and nipped her chin. The little moan that fell from her lips just urged him on as he moved one hand from her ass to the soaking wet strip of cloth that covered her pussy.

“Fuck, Cam,” he groaned, running his middle fingertip up the center of the satin panties.

“Bedroom. Now,” she whispered in his ear.

* * *

They’d made it more than halfway up the staircase before she’d gotten tripped up and he’d descended on her, covering her body with his and peppering kisses on every inch of skin he could find. Cam’s ass was on the third stair from the top and her back was arched so he could run his tongue into the cleavage between her breasts. She moaned and gripped the back of his head insistently.

“You’re killing me,” she said between heavy breaths.

With great effort of will, he pushed himself up off her and pulled her to her feet. His bed was at the end of the hallway, and it’d only take them a few seconds to get there. He just needed to keep his hands off her until then. She instinctively knew where they were going because she breezed past the second bedroom and the bathroom and walked right into his room.

Paul put his hand on her waist as soon as they entered the room. She turned and pressed herself against him. “It’s dark,” she whispered.

He fumbled along the wall until he found the light switch. It controlled two small lights mounted on the walls on either side of his bed. At night it wasn’t much to see by so he usually had to turn on the lamp across the room if he actually wanted to do anything. But it was perfect for what he wanted to do to her in his bed.

He’d actually made his bed this morning in hopes that she’d end up here. He’d imaged more of a pleasant dinner, making out until they were both warmed up, and then moving to his bedroom. Nice and leisurely so he could give her the tour of the second floor. This wasn’t leisurely; this was wild. Her hands were unbuckling his belt, and he was helping her. She didn’t care about the new duvet on his bed and that was okay by him.

“Unzip me,” she said turning. Paul did what he was told, his head spinning. Why were they wearing clothes? Clothes were stupid. He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, popping one off while she shimmied out of her dress to reveal a matching strapless bra and underwear set. Cream satin and black lace trim. Her tight, muscular dancer’s body filled them out nicely with the panties showcasing her full ass and thighs.

While he unzipped his slacks, she stepped over and ran her hands up his abs to his chest and then over his shoulders, pushing the dress shirt off as she went. Her pupils were dilated, and he was sure he was looking at her the same way she was looking at him. His pants fell to the ground, and he stepped out of them, pushing her backward toward the bed.

“I want you so bad,” Cam whispered when he wrapped his arms around her, maneuvering her so she didn’t trip when she hit the foot of his bed.

“Mmm,” Paul replied, his lips pressing against her ear as he unhooked the clasps on her bra. “I want you more.”

When the bra fell to the ground, he glanced down to see her dark, rosy nipples standing out. Right as he bent his head to suck one into his mouth, she fell back onto the bed, her hands going back to catch herself. Paul followed her down, kneeling between her legs and laving her nipples with his tongue, then dragging the edges of his teeth across them.

Cam cried out and used her hand on the back of his head to hold him against her chest. Her entire body was writhing underneath him, and he relished each and every movement. They all told him that she desired him as much as he desired her.

She was straining underneath him, trying to get her arms down far enough to slip his boxers off. Paul felt the beginnings of a grin lift one side of his mouth when she found purchase on the elastic waistband of the cotton boxers. “I need you,” she whispered when he helped her pull them down. However, he caught her wrist when she tried to touch him as he knelt and kicked them all the way off.

“I’ll explode,” he explained, grabbing her other wrist and pressing both above her head against the mattress. Cam arched her back and moaned, then lifted her hips up and pressed her core against his throbbing erection. The touch of those wet, satin panties on the sensitive skin of his cock nearly set him off.

* * *

Cam was wondering if this was one long orgasm. He had her pinned to the bed, her hands immobile, and his mouth was everywhere. Her lips, her neck, her chest, her nipples. And he’d settled himself firmly between her thighs so she could feel how hard he was, rubbing up against the fabric of her panties. She felt out-of-control and drunk even if she’d only had a glass of white wine with dinner.

Her core was throbbing, needing something just a little more to send her over the edge. She needed him. “I need you inside me,” she begged, wrapping her legs around his waist.

The plea caused Paul to pull his mouth off her nipple and press kisses down her quivering stomaching until he reached the waist of her panties. In the process, he had to let go of her wrists. She flexed her fingers and buried them in his hair when his tongue dipped under the fabric of her panties to lick her lower abdomen.

He curled his fingers into the sides of her underwear and slowly dragged them down. Cam lifted her hips up to help him. As soon as she kicked the panties off, he was on her again, his face buried between her legs. She was so wet that she wondered if he’d drown, but that thought only lasted for a fleeting moment. Because as soon as the tip of his tongue nudged her clit, her mind blacked out. That rolling wave of pleasure was cresting and all it would take was another touch.

Cam gave a hoarse cry when he speared his tongue deep inside because it made his nose press up against her button, setting her off. Her thighs clamped down on the sides of his head, but instead of pulling away, it felt like he dove in deeper, working his jaw and lapping up every drop he could.

Her ears were roaring, like she was on a plane and the altitude was causing problems. But she wasn’t on a plane and the roaring pounded in time with her pulse. “Oh my God,” Cam murmured, her legs going limp.

Paul was scattering his sweet kisses up her body--from her thighs to her hips to her sides to her breasts to her shoulders. He pressed his lips to her left ear. “That was so fucking sexy, Cam.”

Her musky scent clung to him, her juices drying on his face, but she found him no less attractive as he bent to kiss her. Cam could taste herself on his tongue and what she thought might have been a turn-off was actually a turn-on. To be surrounded by him and herself, floating in his bed with nothing around them and no responsibilities for hours. It was a gorgeous feeling. Part of that was probably the afterglow of the amazing orgasm he’d given her.

The press of his hard cock on her stomach was distracting and made her blood run hot. She could feel how ready she was to accept him inside. It had been so long, she wondered if it would hurt, especially because he was a bit longer than anyone else she’d been with. He hadn’t given her much of a chance to see him, but she got enough of an eye-full when he kicked off his boxers that she had a good idea of what she was getting into.

“Paul,” she begged, dragging her short nails down his muscular back.

He pressed his forehead into her neck and murmured. “Give me a second. I need to go grab a condom from the bathroom.”

Cam shifted under him, impatient. She hadn’t used a condom in years. She knew she shouldn’t feel reckless and spontaneous at the time like this, but she also knew she trusted him.

“I’m clean and I’m on the pill,” she whispered. “Are you?”

She could feel him smiling against her shoulder. “On the pill?” Paul asked.

Cam dug her heel into his ass. “Yes, Paul. Are you on birth control?” she asked in the most sarcastic voice she could conjure up.

“No, but I’m clean,” he said softly in her ear.

“Then get inside me,” she demanded.

Paul didn’t need to be told twice. He lifted himself up to a kneeling position and pressed the head of his cock right against her. She was so wet that just a shift of her hips let his tip dip inside. The tease caused his jaw to tighten right before the muscles in his stomach and back rocked his hips forward to sheath his cock inside her.

“Like that?” he asked, one hand splayed out over her stomach as he pulled out and pushed into her in incredibly slow, controlled strokes. She felt every inch of him, and he looked like a god kneeling over her with his wide shoulders that trimmed down to a flat stomach and narrow hips.

“Oh God,” Cam mumbled when he hooked her right leg in the crook of his elbow and used the leverage to open her up wider. He leaned down then, pressing her into the mattress and speeding up his thrusts. Unlike the earlier ones, these were sharp and hard and fast. Each one pushed her a little closer to the headboard.

Paul leaned in closer and kissed her, mirroring the thrust of his cock with the thrust of his tongue between her parted lips. “I wish you could feel how tight you are,” he hissed into her ear. And then he had her hands--that had been digging into his back--corralled and locked down in the grip of his free hand above her head. Cam had never pegged Paul as a dominant in the bedroom, but there was no one else she’d rather be under and held down by but him.

“You’re gonna...” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “I’m... so close.”

His ragged breath and gruff voice made her unconsciously tighten up the muscles that lined the walls of her pussy. The sensation affected both of them because she could feel her orgasm just on the brink of arriving and the pressure caused him to gasp.

“Cam,” Paul said on an exhale. “Come for me. Please. Please.”

Everything just coalesced together. His tight grip on her wrists. His breathy, growled pleas in her ear. The way he still had her leg hooked on his arm so she was spread wide for him to take what he wanted. The steady way he was pumping into her, skin on skin. She felt all the muscles in her core lock up as a wave of pleasure rolled over her. She heard the words, “Oh my God,” escape her lips and then he was making small throaty grunts as he jerked inside her and came.

His grip on her wrists loosened up, and he slowly let her leg fall off his arm. Cam traced circles on his back with her fingertips as they both came down and caught their breath.

“You make me crazy,” he murmured in her ear before wiggling his arm beneath her body and rolling them over so she was on top of him.

“Uh, likewise, buddy,” she replied, kissing his chest.

Paul chuckled and gently gathered her hair up in his hands, detangling it and spreading it out over her left shoulder. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, running fingertips over her bare right shoulder.

Cam laughed, brushing her lips over the scruffy beginnings of a five o’clock shadow on his face before she kissed him. “You’re just enjoying the afterglow of your orgasm,” she told Paul.

“No, you’re beautiful,” he said before pulling the edge of the duvet over them, folding them up in the blanket on his king-size bed.

* * *

He woke to find himself on his side. She was facing him, her body curled up into his and her palms pressed against his chest. Paul smoothed her hair back from her face and smiled. They’d forgotten to turn the lights off. And they weren’t even between the sheets. He’d just folded the blanket in half to cover them. He hadn’t been capable of much after they’d finished what was, hands down, the best sex of his life.

Cam moaned softly in her sleep and rolled over, pushing her ass back into him. Paul’s hand went to her hip and then up and down her body when he remembered she was naked and he was free to touch every inch of her soft skin.

The way she was shifting her hips was definitely getting him ready for action. He was half-hard when he heard her moan his name in her sleep.

“Cam,” he whispered in her ear.

She moaned again.

Paul smiled. “Cam. Wake up.” If she was having a sex dream about him, then he wanted the chance to make it reality. “Cam,” he said again, dragging his front teeth down her neck.

“Paul?” she asked, her voice dreamy.

“Were you having a dream about me?”

She pushed back into him and Paul’s hand moved from her thigh around to cup the mound of her pussy. He teased her with the tip of his middle finger.

“Mmm, hmm. God, that feels so good.” She seemed a little out of it still, not yet fully awake.

“What were we doing in the dream?”

“Mmm,” Cam murmured as she tried to shift her hips and press down on his hand. Paul’s cock was rock hard again, and it was probably because the woman in his bed was so hot for him.

“What were we doing?” he asked again.

“I was on my knees and you were... behind me,” she mumbled, rolling her hips like she was riding his hand. Paul felt a shot of adrenaline rush through him at her words.

Taking his hand away, he swatted her on the ass. “On your knees,” he commanded as he pushed himself up into a kneeling position.

The loss of his warmth and the smack to her ass cheek appeared to have woken her fully. “What?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

“On your knees,” Paul repeated.

He almost came when he saw the fire in her eyes as she bit her lower lip and turned over to push herself up on her knees facing away from him and toward the headboard.

Instead of telling her what to do, he put a hand on the middle of her back and pressed down lightly. Cam took the cue and lowered her upper body down until she was resting on her elbows. He had an amazing view of her smooth back that flared out into a heart-shaped ass.

He positioned the head of his cock at her entrance and said, “Push back.”

She did exactly as he’d asked. With one hand on her hip and the other at the base of his cock, he guided himself inside her.

Cam moaned in pleasure, shifting her body back and forth like she couldn’t get enough of him. Paul grabbed both her hips and started thrusting into her. With her ass in the air like this he was able to go deeper and she took every inch of his cock. He could feel his toes curling at the mind-blowing pleasure of being inside her. He wouldn’t last long if she kept pushing back on him.

Paul reached out and grabbed a handful of her beautiful hair, using it to pull her up. He was worried he was being too rough until he heard her little gasps of pleasure.

“Is this as good as your dream?” he asked, snaking his arm around her and pressing the tip of his middle finger against her clit.

“Y--yes!” Cam cried out. “Better,” she added when he dipped his finger down to gather her juices and spread them over her button.

“I’m coming,” she said through heavy breaths. He still had her hair fisted in his hand, he was pounding into her from behind, and she was still coming all over his cock. Paul tilted his head back and made one final thrust before unloading into her.

* * *

He woke up to a rumpled bed and a gorgeous woman who had been watching him sleep, apparently. Light was filtering in through the bedroom window. It had to be at least seven in the morning, maybe eight or nine. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, lifting his head to press a kiss to her forehead. Her eye makeup was smeared, and her hair was tangled and wild, but she looked no worse for the wear, considering what they had done last night.

“Hey,” she replied with a smile, settling her head on his shoulder. Paul shifted to let her get more comfortable. Cam traced patterns on his chest and shoulder. “You wrecked me last night. I’m not sure if I can walk right,” she said with a giggle.

“Me neither,” Paul admitted, smiling up at the ceiling. Normally this was where the awkwardness happened. The sex was always fun, but the morning after was sometimes painful. Except this morning it was feeling lazy and good. Really good. “You want something? Juice? Milk? Water? I have instant coffee, but it’s terrible.”

“Is that why you come see me at work?” she teased.

“No, I came because I had a crush on you. And now I’m going to continue to come because my girlfriend works at Starbucks in the morning.”

Cam turned her face into him and laughed. Her long eyelashes tickled the sensitive skin underneath his arm. “Do you have orange juice?” she asked.

“I think so. I’ll go get you a glass.”

“And I’ll pull this duvet off the bed and throw it in the shower because it’s a black light’s worst nightmare.”

Paul chuckled. They both could use a shower. Normally he was one of those guys that liked to jump in the shower after sex, but last night the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “I’ll take it downstairs and throw it in the washer when I get your juice. You can have the shower first.”

“Deal,” Cam said as she lifted her head so he could extract his arm.

Paul rolled out of bed and looked back at her. She was naked and in the middle of the mattress like a goddess or the best birthday present he’d ever get in his life. “How many hours do we have before you have to go to work?” he asked, running his eyes over her breasts.

Cam rolled over off the duvet and kicked it to the foot of the bed. “A few, but you’re not touching me until I’ve had a shower. I’m gross.”

“Then you better get in the shower now,” he replied, gathering up the blanket. She squealed as he tried to grab her when she headed toward the en-suite bathroom. Instead of chasing her down like he wanted to do, he pulled on the pair of boxers he’d shed last night and took the duvet downstairs to throw it in the floor by the washer. There were way more important things to do than laundry. Maybe if he hurried, he could get her juice and join her in the shower. His morning erection was still halfway with him, and it thought that was an excellent idea.

On his way back through the living room, he saw her phone blinking by the stereo. She probably had a message. He was pretty sure she used the cell for her studio business, so he grabbed it and pulled out the aux cord so he could take it upstairs for her. When the cord came out, the screen lit up. Her background was of a beach at sunset. His first thought was that he’d have to take her on vacation this summer. The second thought felt like curdled milk in his stomach. She had a missed called from ten-thirty last night. And the name that was emblazoned across her screen was Brandon Sutter.

Paul felt so sick he thought he might throw up. He sat the orange juice on the shelf and pressed his hand against the wall to steady himself. The screen on her phone had since gone dark, but he didn’t need to see it again to know that she’d missed a call from one of his teammates. At ten-fucking-thirty at night.

It had always been in the back of his mind from the beginning. It was what had stopped him from pursuing her at first. What would she turn out to be? One of the woman who left him because he couldn’t give her the time she needed or deserved or one of the girls who was in it for the money or the guys? Obviously she wasn’t in it for him if she was giving her number out to his fucking teammates.

Sutter knew Paul was sweet on her. Why was he chasing after her too? And then Paul remembered her straddling his leg and grinding on him. Yeah, that was probably why. Let the best man win kinda thing. Well, he didn’t want to play those games.

After taking a couple minutes to compose himself and swallow disgust that was creeping up his esophagus at the prospect that he’d have to see her sleep around with some of the guys he worked with, he picked up her juice and her phone and trudged up the stairs. The worst thing was that he was catching feelings for her. Hard. They’d agreed to be exclusive. He’d been ready to take her on vacation in a few months. And now it was all gone.

Paul sat on the edge of his bed and watched the steam creep out of the cracked bathroom door. Her juice was on the nightstand beside her phone. He wasn’t sure how he was going to handle this, but he needed to get her the fuck out of his house before he lost it. While he waited, he gathered her clothes--the little light green dress, her heels that she must have kicked off before they hit the bed, her bra. It took him a minute to find her panties. He’d thrown them over his shoulder and they were hanging from the edge of his chest of drawers. Neatly, he put them on a pile at the foot of the bed.

Just as he finished, she stepped out of the bathroom with one of his white towels wrapped around her body and another in her hand as she dried her wet hair. Her eyes swept up and down him

“You are so disgustingly hot, Paul,” she said with a smile. “I can’t even stand it.”

He opened his mouth and almost fell back into old times, joking and flirting with her. His heart ached because he wanted that so much. Instead, he had the missed call on her fucking phone. Paul snatched his shirt off the floor and pulled it over his head. “Juice is on the nightstand, and I picked up all your clothes.”

Her footsteps that were carrying her toward him faltered and a look of confusion descended on her beautiful face. “Oh, okay. Thanks.”

Instead of continuing toward him, she turned and picked up the glass of juice. Paul could see her watching him from the corner of her eye. He crossed his arms over his chest and said, “So, I, uh, have to go in for practice this morning. So... Yeah, I’ve got to leave.” He knew it sounded lame, but he didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t tell her he was snooping in her phone. He couldn’t deal with having that same shitty conversation where he asks her if she’s around for him or for the life and hearing her lie. He’d heard that lie too many times.

Cam frowned, her brow furrowing. “Oh. I, I thought you had the day off. I mean, you didn’t... didn’t really say so, but it just seemed like we...”

“Yeah, no, I have to go,” he said, cutting her off.

“Paul, what’s...”

“Look, I’m gonna throw the blanket in the washer and clean up in the kitchen. You’ll be ready to leave in fifteen, right? I’ve gotta run. Don’t forget your phone.”

“I...” She trailed off and he saw the tears rimming her lower lids. Oh God, he couldn’t take this. Paul turned on his heel and practically ran down the stairs to get away from her. His heart felt battered.

While he was rinsing the plates off and stowing them away in the dishwasher, she came downstairs in her little dress and heels. She’d washed the makeup from last night off, but she still looked gorgeous. Except her eyes were red like she’d been crying. Good. He felt like crying, too.

He watched her stop when she saw the chair in the living room and him standing in the kitchen. Cam opened her mouth to say something and then seemed to think better of it. Without a word, she headed toward the door. Paul put his head on the counter and listened to the clicking of her heels across the tile foyer and then the snap of the front door as it shut.

Fuck.

He tossed the sponge in the sink and sat down in the floor of his kitchen. He was really going to miss her.

* * *

He was playing like some kid that they’d just drafted who didn’t know right from left. Adams easily slid by him with the puck and buried it in the net. At least it wasn’t a real game or his ass would be on the line.

“Seven, get your head in the game!” Coach yelled across the ice.

Adams skated up and sprayed Paul with ice when he came to an abrupt stop a couple feet away. “What’s eating you today? I know I’m not that good.”

“Nothing,” Paul replied, turning away and heading back to the bench. Sutter was three guys away. He wanted to punch him in the head. Instead, he clenched his jaw down tight and grabbed a roll of tape. His stick was fine, but he needed something to keep his hands busy.

He felt hollow inside. Empty. He would say emotionless if it weren’t for that ache that traveled from his chest to his gut and back again. It shouldn’t be this bad. They’d only gone on three dates. But he’d known her for months. No, he’d seen her for months, but only known her for weeks. Maybe the ache wasn’t because of her; maybe it was because of him. He just wanted a relationship so badly that the loss of this one was what hurt him.

Except, he’d been through this before with other women. He’d been hurt or disgusted, but it had never felt his shitty. Because none of them has been as perfect as her. So, he was back to her again. Cam. Camila. He should have known she was the wrong type when he saw her dancing on that pole like she was fucking it. He should have known.

“Go! Go!” Someone hit his back twice, urging him to jump over the boards and get on the ice. Coach. Paul wasn’t paying attention to the play, and he wasn’t listening for verbal cues. He needed to get his head out of his ass.

Paul knocked the puck away from Sid and pushed forward, trying to overtake his Captain. It wasn’t happening because Sid was a better and faster skater. Easily, Sid outmaneuvered him and passed the puck over to Sutter. Paul leaned forward and kicked out, catching the younger man at the blue line. Not really thinking of anything other than Sutter’s name on her cell phone screen, Paul plowed into him and rammed him up against the boards. It was a dirty hit. If it had been a game, it would have earned him a penalty and maybe a fine.

Sutter pushed himself up to his knees and then to his feet. “What the fuck, Paulie?” he demanded, shoving Paul’s shoulder. “It’s fucking practice.”

“Don’t fucking push me,” Paul said, shoving Sutter back up against the boards. For a moment Sutter seemed shocked and then he seemed pissed because he was dropping his gloves. That was fine with Paul; he dropped his as well. Sutter got in a good hook that connected on Paul’s cheekbone and hurt like hell. That asshole might be stealing Paul’s girl, but he wasn’t going to beat Paul up. Paul pulled back a fist and slammed it into Sutter’s nose. The blood was immediate, but Paul wasn’t done as he dragged Sutter to the ice.

Suddenly there were hands on his shoulders, pulling him back. All the guys were standing around yelling at Paul. He blinked and saw blood all over the ice and two of the guys helping Sutter up.

“What the hell happened?” That was Sid. Sid was the one who’d pulled him off Sutter. Paul wished he hadn’t.

“Nothing,” Paul snapped back.

“Bullshit, Paulie,” Sid replied.

“Let’s take a break! “ Coach yelled over all the raised voices. “Martin, get the fuck off my ice.”

Paul skated over to the bench and stepped off to go down the tunnel that led to the locker room. His eyes never left the floor. What was he going to do? Go home and sit on his couch and miss her? Wonder what she is doing? Who she is doing? She’d really fucked up his head.

“Hey,” Sid said, catching up to him. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Paul replied throwing himself onto the bench in front of his locker. No one else was around. Sutter was probably getting seen to in the examining room and the rest of the guys were still at practice.

“You and Cam okay?” Leave it to Sid to hit the nail on the head. That kid was more perceptive than anyone he’d ever met, but he always kept his nose out of everyone else’s business. Paul admired him for it.

“No.”

“Oh,” Sid said, lowering himself on the bench a few feet away. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“No.”

“You want to stop punching your teammates?”

That answer was no, but Paul remained silent.

“Look, you want to talk, let me know,” Sid said. He waited several seconds and then finally got up and left.


	6. Chapter 6

She’d called and left him two voicemails. One the night after he’d kicked her out of his house and another two days later. He hadn’t returned either of them. Cam felt lost and confused and hurt. The hurt was the worst. She should have known that he was too perfect. Guys like him didn’t just fall in her lap.

The worst thing of all was that she felt so raw she couldn’t even dance. Every movement made her think of him. Every song was about him. She’d been trying to work on a routine for Ciara’s Promise and getting through the song without ending up on the floor in tears was pretty much impossible.

She didn’t know why he’d gotten to her so much. She’d just felt that connection with him, especially the night they’d slept together. She’d trusted him so much, and he’d stomped all over it. Cam’s faith was so shaken she even went and got an STD test. If he’d lied about his feelings and wanting to be serious with her, then he could have lied about anything. The test was negative, but the doctor told her she needed to come back in a month for a follow-up test since not all the STDs would show a few days after a sexual encounter.

Cam felt angry at herself for allowing a setback. She’d been doing well, building her business, healing. Now she was back to where she’d been over a year ago when a man had broken her heart. Fucking useless, hurtful men.

Two women were chatting about things they’d seen on Pinterest at the table by the side door. Cam felt like crying. It had been over a week, and she still felt like crying. She leaned on the counter and rested her chin on her hand as she watched the traffic speed by. The light in front would turn red and the cars would slow, stop, and then speed by again when it was green. She watched three cycles and was about to go into the back and grab another bag of blonde roast when she saw a black SUV come to a stop at the light.

Cam stood up and squinted her eyes at the driver. Him. Her heart pounded hard in her chest and her eyes started burning. He didn’t turn his head to look her way. Instead, he stared ahead until the light turned green. Then his truck lurched forward and was gone.

That night she got home well after ten. She’d spent two hours after her last class cleaning the floor in the studio on her hands and knees. It didn’t really need it, but she couldn’t go home and sit by herself. When she finally did walk in the door, she went straight to her jewelry box. It was small and not filled with anything of worth beyond what was buried at the bottom under fake pearls and a couple fortune cookie fortunes that she’d kept from around the time she’d divorced Jim.

The gold band had adorned her hand for years but was useless now. She’d pawned the engagement ring to get money for the studio because she didn’t want anything to remind her of Jim. The wedding band didn’t. It reminded her of marriage, security, safety, love, happiness. She didn’t realize that until recently. She’d kept it because she was holding onto one day having that again. Maybe she shouldn’t make any rash decisions while she was still hurting from Paul using her, but she still tucked the band away in the front pocket of her purse. There was a cash for gold place a couple miles away, and she’d stop by there and sell it after work tomorrow. The studio could use the money.

* * *

“You what?” Shelly asked.

“I sold it. They only gave me $150, though. I thought wedding rings were supposed to be worth more.”

Shelly stepped down off the step stool she was using to help Cam clean the mirrors with Windex. Cam had known Shelly since before Jim. They’d graduated high school together and had lost touch a couple times in the years since, but had always found one another.

“I thought you were keeping it for memories.”

Cam shrugged and grabbed the roll of paper towels off the floor. “Memories aren’t physical things. Plus, the extra cash helped me buy an ad in the Tribune.”

“Cam.” Shelly said her name like she knew something was up. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you upset about Jim’s wedding?”

“No, not at all,” she answered honestly.

Shelly shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She looked uncomfortable. “So, then you heard that he and the whore are pregnant, I guess?”

Of all the things Cam was expecting Shelly to say, that was not one of them. It felt like a punch in the gut. “What?”

“Oh,” Shelly said, scrunching her nose up. “So, you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t know,” Cam confirmed. “And I don’t fucking care.”

“Cam, I know you and Jim...”

“Me and Jim nothing. I don’t give a fuck.” She crumpled up the towel in her hand and threw it on the floor. Three years into their marriage, she’d mentioned going off the pill so they could try and get pregnant, but Jim had told her that he felt like they should wait until they were older. He was thinking thirty-five or thirty-six. She had accepted it, though she didn’t really like it. And there he went, having a baby at the tender age of thirty-two with the bitch he cheated on her with.

It was a slap in the face. On a good day, she could have brushed it off and moved on, but she was too raw from what Paul had done. Her eyes were leaking again. Cam turned her back so Shelly couldn’t see.

“Cam, come on. He’s a dick. Their kid is going to be a monster.”

Cam laughed and tried to sniff away her tears. “Oh God, wouldn’t that be great?”

“What happened to you? When I saw you last month you were great.”

“I went on a date with a guy. Actually, I went on three dates with a guy.”

“And? I mean, obviously he was a douche if he made you sound this sad,” Shelly said.

Cam dabbed at her eyes and inhaled a long breath of air. “He poofed after we slept together.”

“Ugh, fucking asshole.”

“Yeah,” Cam said. “I thought he was different.”

“But this is good, girl. You’re not hung up on that two-year dry spell anymore. Let me set you up with someone. Tim works with this guy who is single. He’s tall, dark, and delicious in a suit. Works with the D.A.’s office as a...”

“No, no, no,” Cam chanted, cutting her friend’s sales pitch off. “I’m not dating right now. I’m over it.”

“Don’t let some nobody asshole turn you off a good guy.”

“I thought he was a good guy, Shel. I believed it without any reservation. And he fucked me. Literally and figuratively.”

Shelly pushed her lower lip out. “I’m sorry, Cam. You deserve more.”

Cam didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she yanked a fresh towel off the role and started scrubbing the mirror.

“Was it good sex at least?” Shelly’s eyebrows were raised when Cam glanced over at her friend.

“Shelly!”

“Oh, come on! Let me live vicariously. It must have been good if you’re blushing like that.”

“I’ll have you know it was the best. Sex. Ever,” Cam replied with a grin.

“Oh man!” Shelly said, putting the Windex down. “I need a play-by-play. So, he was hot, right?”

Cam nodded. “The hottest. But I don’t want to talk about it anymore because he’s also a user and an asshole.”

* * *

Paul wished they could just go out of town already. He didn’t want to spend another second in his house. They had a home game tomorrow night and then they were scheduled to play Buffalo. He was looking forward to getting away and not sitting alone in his house. When he looked at his breakfast bar, he saw her eating dinner. When he looked at the chairs in his dining room, he could feel her straddling his lap. Forget his bed. He hadn’t slept in the damn thing since she’d left his house. The couch was perfectly comfortable.

The TV mounted on the wall above the fireplace was on, but muted. The captions for the documentary about World War II were scrolling below, but he wasn’t reading them. He was staring at his laptop and thinking about Cam. Thinking about where she was and what she was doing. Seven-thirty on a Thursday night meant she was probably teaching a class. Or maybe just finishing up a class and working on her next routine.

He could call her. Or stop by her studio. Or stop by her apartment. If she wasn’t using him to get to his teammates. He kept repeating that in his head, always tacking that on when his thoughts strayed to her. But it felt wrong. The evidence was there; the phone call was damning. But it still felt wrong. Not quite right. Whatever.

He pulled up her website and went to the videos. The lap dance was still at the bottom, the screenshot from the YouTube video was a picture of the empty chair. After a moment’s hesitation, he clicked play.

She was as beautiful as ever. Every move she made reminded him of the way her body surged beneath him when they’d made love that night. No, when they’d had sex that night. When they’d fucked that night. God, she could move, he thought as the video continued. There was only a minute left and he’d never made it to this part when he’d watched it before.

Cam ended the instructional video by sitting on the edge of the chair and bending over, flipping her hair over. When she sat back up she was smiling. No longer the seductress, but the sweet girl he’d gotten to know while he had coffee in Starbucks.

“Just a quick note that this is for grown folks. If you’re twelve, you better go do your homework and save this for later in life,” she said to the camera. “And for all you ladies, this dance is only for the important men. The husbands, the fiances, the long-term boyfriends. This is not for the guy you met at the club last night. This is for the man who deserves it and has worked for it. Keep that in mind.”

The video stopped and YouTube’s suggestions on what videos he should watch next popped up in its place. Paul sat there, staring at the screen and hearing her words echo in his head. Only for the important men. For the man who deserves it and has worked for it. Those weren’t words that a player would say. They were definitely NOT lines the girl he’d convinced himself she was would say. Not really. Unless it was all an act. Except, the video had been there way before he’d been interested in her. Way before he’d asked her on a date. She’d posted it shortly after opening the studio according to the time stamp.

Something was wrong. He felt like he’d made a mistake, but the facts didn’t really line up with the feeling. Picking up his phone, he called Sid.

“Hey, Paulie,” Sid said when he picked up.

“Hey. You have a minute?”

“Yeah, yeah. Mel’s making me watch The Bachelor. She DVR’d it. You just saved me.”

“I don’t want to interrupt your time with her, man,” Paul replied.

“Nah, it’s okay. What’s up?”

“Did you see Sutter talking to Cam the night we went to her studio?”

Sid was silent for a moment. “Uh, yeah.”

“When?”

“Why?”

Paul sighed. “I just want to know.”

“After the class. You were signing autographs for those guys and he went up to her and they talked for a couple minutes.”

“Did she give him her number?”

Sid didn’t say anything for a very long time. “Is this why you punched him in practice that day?”

“Did he?”

“Shit, Paulie. I don’t know. I wasn’t listening. Look, I don’t think he’d do that to you. We all know you were after her. He wouldn’t do that.” When Paul didn’t reply, Sid continued with, “She doesn’t seem like she’d be into jumping beds. Seemed pretty into you every time I saw her.”

Her parting words on the video were running through his head. Only for the important men. The husbands, the fiances... She’d given him what she’d said herself was only for the important men.

What if he had fucked up?

“Yeah, I hear you. I’ve gotta go.”

“Talk to Sutter. Squash it, Paulie. I think you got your wires crossed.”

Paul hung up and climbed the stairs. His bed was pristine. The housekeeper who came by once a week had washed the duvet and put it back on his bed like nothing had ever happened. Wearily, he pulled his shirt off and stripped down to his boxers before throwing the sheets back and sliding into bed for the first time since she’d left. Since he’d asked her to leave, he corrected himself.

* * *

He walked into morning skate early and scanned the locker room. Sutter was sitting on the bench in front of his locker, lacing up his skates. His nose was healing, but there was still a yellow bruise from Paul’s punch. The bruise from his punch to Paul’s cheekbone was also still lingering.

Paul had been avoiding Sutter lately, but he needed to know the truth and no one else could give it to him. He walked up to his teammate and sat down beside him, leaving a couple feet between them.

“What the fuck do you want?” Sutter asked. He’d been wary of Paul since the incident in practice. “You still on the rag?”

“Did Cam give you her number?”

The question seemed to throw Sutter off. “Come again?”

“Cam. Did she give you her number the night we went to her studio?”

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

“And you called her.” It was a statement because Paul already knew the answer.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to set up private lessons with me and this girl I’ve been seeing. She’s into that kind of shit, and I thought it would score me some points.” Sutter looked at Paul like he was crazy. “Why?”

Paul felt relieved and then overwhelmingly sick.

When he didn’t respond to Sutter’s question, the other man’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, you thought I was after her, didn’t you? You thought she gave me her number because she was into sleeping around with players. Oh, man. That’s fucking rich. Is that why you broke my nose?”

“I saw your missed call on her cell phone the night she came over for dinner.” Paul felt like everything was far away.

Sutter grinned. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I? I mean, I know I called kinda late, but I just wanted to leave her a message before I forgot.”

“Did she call you back?”

“Nah, I haven’t heard from her. Thought she got busy so I was going to call her after we get back in town.” Sutter turned toward Paul. “Wait, did you dump her? Did you dump her because you thought she was messing around with me? Aww, shit.” Sutter laughed.

He sounded like he was down a long tunnel.

“You better call her man. She was digging on you. Kept glancing over at you when I was trying to talk to her.”

Paul stood up and pushed his way out of the locker room and into the bathroom. He shut himself up in one of the stalls and pressed his forehead against the cold metal of the door. He felt like throwing up. He’d never felt this sick before, never felt this much like a piece of shit.

Sutter’s comments about her watching him were replaying in his head, alternating with her looking into that camera and saying, “Only for the important men.” God, he’d fucked up so badly. His hands were actually shaking as he reached for his phone. He couldn’t call her, though. She was everything he’d ever wanted and all the shit he’d been thinking about her the past two weeks had been wrong.

* * *

Cam was jotting down a budget on a napkin while she tried to wish away the next three hours. She was working at Starbucks until noon and then she needed to go over and pull the mats out for her Sunday afternoon beginner pole class. If she could increase business by thirty percent, then she could cut back on her hours at Starbucks. Her manager had promised to keep her around as long as she worked at least twenty hours a week. That meant she’d have some time to herself and, more importantly, time to promote the studio.

Maybe the last two weeks were just the kick in the pants she needed to get her head on straight and her priorities in line. After her talk with Shelly, she’d had a good cry over the Jim-having-a-baby thing. It was a blessing that they’d never had a kid, especially since that would have never stopped his cheating ass from stepping out on her. Let him fuck up his life with a brand new family. She was glad she wasn’t part of it. And Paul, fuck him too.

She tucked the napkin away in her back pocket. Thinking of him still made her heart ache, but she knew it shouldn’t. He’d used her for sex. And the worst part was that he made her believe it had been so much more. He was a liar.

The door dinged to announced the arrival of a customer. When Cam looked up, she had to school her expression. It was Mel. Sidney Crosby’s Mel. She smiled warmly at Cam and hurried up to the counter.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Mel said. “Can I have a grande skinny chai latte?”

“Sure,” Cam replied, going through the motions like a robot and making the drink while she wondered what Melanie Kay was doing here. She lived on the other side of town. Maybe she was here to talk about the pole classes. Maybe she hadn’t heard about the demise of Cam’s relationship with Paul. Or fling or whatever those guys called the girls they tricked into sleeping with them.

“So, you have a class this afternoon, right? I was thinking of bringing two of my friends. Will you have room?”

Cam looked over her shoulder. “Sure.”

Mel seemed nervous, like there was something she wasn’t saying.

“Class starts at two. Wear comfortable shorts and a tank,” she added, setting the chai latte on the counter and ringing up Mel’s order.

The other woman paid and picked up the drink. “I’ll be there. Ummmm, look, I... I was told to give this to you.” Mel pulled a slip of paper out of her coat pocket and slid it across the counter. “I really think you should read it.”

Cam narrowed her eyes and almost shoved the paper back. Mel didn’t give her the chance because she was already hurrying out the door and slipping into the passenger seat of a black Range Rover. Which probably belonged to Sidney Crosby. Who was probably doing Paul Martin’s dirty work.

The place was deserted, so it wouldn’t matter if she cried all over the register for a few minutes. A glutton for punishment, she unfolded the note and scanned her eyes over the short paragraph. It was written in spiky manuscript, but the pen strokes were oddly beautiful.

_Cam,_

_I don’t know how to begin to say how sorry I am and how badly I messed up. I let my own prejudices and hang-ups poison my thoughts about you and your intentions. You gave me the best of you and I thought the worst even though I had no basis for doing so. I’d like the chance to apologize to your face. No strings attached. I owe it to you. Please call me._

_Paul_

Goddammit, he’d made her cry again. She grabbed a napkin off the counter and dabbed it under her eyes. The letter was lovely and made absolutely no sense. What was he talking about? Her intentions? Him thinking the worst of her? Things had been puppies and kittens up until she’d stepped into his shower. What happened between then and when he’d dumped her out on her ass?

She thought back to that morning. He’d gone downstairs to get her juice. She’d used his shampoo and conditioner. Only a maniac would dump a girl for that. And then she’d found him piling her clothes up on the bed and looking like she disgusted him. She’d gone over it so many times. What did he think happened?

_Don’t forget your phone._ He’d said that to her before he’d walked out of the bedroom. The four words had sounded so hateful that she didn’t know how to respond. Her phone. What about her damn phone? She’d missed a call from Brandon that morning. He’d left a message about scheduling a private lesson with his new girlfriend who was in town for the month. Cam hadn’t called him back after things fell apart with Paul.

Did Paul think she’d given her number to his teammate so she could hook up with him as well? The thought disgusted Cam. Didn’t he know her better than that?

She crumpled the paper up and threw it in the trash can behind the counter. Men always fucked things up.

* * *

True to her word, Mel showed up with two of her friends for the pole class. She didn’t mention the letter, and Cam kept her mouth shut too. Instead, they had a great class with a few laughs. As things broke up and the ladies gravitated toward the door of the studio, Mel hung back.

“Hey,” she said, putting her hand on Cam’s arm. “I don’t know what Paul wrote, but I think you should call him. He looks like shit and has been playing like shit and he might be in love with you.”

The bold statement sucked every breath of air out of Cam’s lungs. Finally, she inhaled and said, “I don’t want to know.”

“I think you do,” Mel replied. “Let him explain himself at least. If you still think he’s an asshole, then tell him to leave you alone. And he WILL leave you alone if that’s what you want.”

Cam sighed, her heart and head waging a war inside her body. “Tell him that he can come see me at Starbucks at noon tomorrow. I’ll give him fifteen minutes.”

Mel smiled softly. “I’ll tell him.” She turned to leave and then stopped, glancing back at Cam. “He’s a really great guy, Cam. I know he screwed up, but he’s a stand up guy. And he needs you.”

“He hurt me.”

“He thought you were going to hurt him,” Mel said. “There are girls who do that. Who date one to get to another, who jump from one bed to the next. He shouldn’t have thought that about you, but he was afraid.”

Cam watched Mel and her two friends leave, and then she sat down on the couch and sighed. Maybe she shouldn’t have thrown away his note. On impulse, she jumped up and pushed open the door. No one was in the parking lot, so she hurried over to Starbucks and used her key to unlock the door. The alarm buzzed until she punched in the code. The evening shift never took out the trash. She’d complained about it a million times, but tonight she was grateful. Underneath a few receipts and an empty coffee cup was a wadded up piece of paper. She straightened it out on the counter and carefully folded it back up before setting the alarm and going back to the studio.

**************************************

It was eleven fifty, and she’d just clocked out a few minutes early since her relief had arrived fifteen minutes before her shift. Cam was exhausted. She grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down at a small table over by the windows. It was the most secluded table, not visible from the counter or from where most customers waited for their drinks.

His SUV had been sitting in the parking lot for twenty minutes, but it was parked facing the road, so she couldn’t see inside. He was probably waiting for the clock to tick over to noon before he came inside. Part of her wanted to see him and part of her hated him for breaking her heart.

When he slipped out of his truck at eleven-fifty-seven, all the hate went right out of her. His head was down and his hands were shoved in the pockets of his jeans as he walked briskly across the parking lot. When he came in, his eyes scanned the room, checking behind the counter first. When he didn’t find her there, he looked over and found her at the table. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his face was pale. It looked like a lingering yellow-green of a bruise was fading from his cheekbone.

His eyes looked sad. Cam’s heart ached. For herself, but for him too. Mel had been right; he did look terrible. So different than the playful, sweet man who had made love to her one night a couple weeks ago. Two weeks. That felt like forever ago.

Instead of walking directly up to her, he went to the register and ordered a coffee. She sipped hers and waited for him to come around. A moment later and he did, sliding into the chair across from her.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi,” Cam replied, her voice a bit stiff. “What happened to your face?”

“My... Oh, I got punched,” he replied.

“Who punched you?”

“Sutter. I broke his nose.”

Cam was shocked. “You what? Why?”

“I saw his missed call on your cell, and I thought he was trying to get with you.”

Cam nodded, her suspicion confirmed. All that because of a missed call. He must have seen it when he brought her phone upstairs that morning. “How could you think so poorly of me?”

Paul shook his head. “I should have asked you. I... I was stupid, Cam. I’m so sorry. I understand if you never want to see me again. I...” It was like she’d opened the floodgates and he was spilling out everything he’d wanted to say these past couple days. “I’ve missed you so much. And I’m so sorry. You were nothing less than amazing to me and I treated you so badly that morning. And I didn’t return your calls. I never gave you the chance to explain. And, and you shouldn’t have even had to explain because I’m the one who jumped to conclusions because of my own hang-ups. You did nothing wrong. And I’m an asshole who should have treated you like the amazing, beautiful woman you are.”

Cam opened her mouth, but nothing came out. His gorgeous eyes were watching her and there was fear in them. Real, palpable fear that she might tell him to shove off.

“I’m sorry, Cam. I’m so sorry. I’ll regret that morning for the rest of my life.”

She nodded and adjusted her hands around her cup. He’d told her before that woman either ran or they used him to get to other guys on the team. Mel told her the same thing yesterday. If she was being fair, then she could see how he could jump to the wrong conclusion. And he looked so damn sincere when he vomited up his heart onto the table in front of her just now.

“I hope you apologized to Brandon for breaking his nose,” she said.

Paul gave her a sad smile. “I will. I think he gets it, though. He knows how things are.”

* * *

She was going to forgive him, but she wasn’t going to take him back. He knew it. He could feel it. Could see it in the sad way she smiled back at him when he promised to apologize to Sutter. He did NOT want to cry. The last time he’d let a girl make him cry was when he was twenty-four. This Paul was older and wiser. Well, maybe not wiser, as evidenced by the terrible situation he’d gotten himself in with Cam. He wanted to be wiser, though.

When she dropped her eyes to the cup in her hand, he said, “Look, I know I fucked up and I understand if you don’t want to give me the time of day. I just need you to know that...” Paul paused and inhaled, then exhaled. “That you’ll always be special to me. I don’t want to back off, but I will if that’s what you want. I just...” His nostrils were burning. He refused to fucking cry. “I just want you to have everything you want because you deserve it.”

Cam glanced up, and he caught her gaze. There were tears in her eyes. As much as he told himself that he wouldn’t cry, seeing her tears sent him over the edge. He used the cuff of his jacket to brush the waterworks out of both his eyes.

Finally, she cleared her voice and said, “I thought you used me so you could get laid.”

Paul shook his head. “Cam, you were there. It was so much more than just that.”

“Yeah, I was there, but you never told me why you were throwing me out on my ass that morning. What was I supposed to think?”

“I thought I was right.”

She held his gaze, the depth of hurt in her eyes was killing him.

“But I was wrong,” he continued. “I was so wrong. I punished you for something you never did just because I’d had it done to me before.”

“Paul, I’m sorry that anyone used you. That makes me so sad that they wouldn’t see how wonderful you are. But you treated me like shit. Weren’t YOU there? Didn’t YOU feel that?”

He reached a hand out and laid it on hers, trapping her left hand against the table. “That morning when I unplugged your phone, I saw your wallpaper before I saw the missed call. And I thought, I want to take her on vacation to the beach this summer. I was thinking about how it would be if you moved in with me. I... I had all these plans for the future with you. Which is crazy because we’ve gone out three times and I just don’t do that kind of thing.” Paul scrubbed at his eyes with the cuff of his jacket again. “I analyze and I think things over and I plan and I evaluate. And you make me want to... live. And just... go with it. You know?”

She pulled her hand out of his grasp, and he felt a piece of his soul die. Paul took a deep breath and made to push himself up out of the chair and leave. Obviously things were too far gone. He’d done too much damage to her when he knew she’d been hurt by someone else not that long ago.

“I’ve had the worst two weeks,” Cam said, reaching behind her to pull napkins out of a dispenser on top of the trash can.

Paul melted back into his chair and absently brushed the wetness from his eyes again. “That’s my fault,” he acknowledged.

“Yeah, partly,” she agreed.

“What’s the other part?” he asked.

Cam shook her head. “Nothing. Or, just something stupid. Nothing.”

“Hey,” he said, tilting his head and trying to catch her gaze while she carefully dabbed the tears from her cheeks and around her eyes. “I want to know.”

“It’s not anything you did. It’s just...” Cam paused and sighed deeply. “Sometimes I worry that I’m behind. Like, I had this plan for life and what I wanted and... I’m not there.”

“But you’re getting there.”

She shook her head. “Not the studio.”

“Then what?” Paul softly touched the hand she had wrapped around her cup. “Tell me.”

“A friend of mine told me a couple days ago that my ex and the woman he cheated on me with are having a baby.” Cam shrugged. “I’m not upset that he and I are over. I mean, I’ve been fine with that for a while. But it stings because...” She shook her head. “Forget it. This isn’t appropriate.”

“Tell me; I want to know.”

She looked up at the ceiling and blinked. Two tears rolled down either side of her face. He wanted to wipe them away, but didn’t want to press his luck with her either. “It just hit me at the wrong time,” Cam admitted.

“Because of me.”

“Yeah. I guess. I mean, in our mid-twenties, my ex, he told me that he wanted to wait to have kids. And then when we got closer to that magical age that he’d determined they were appropriate, he left. Or he found someone else. Or whatever.”

Paul felt out of his depth. He felt like he’d been playing silly games being mad at her over a fucking phone call while she was dealing with shit that was so much deeper than that. And he’d contributed to her pain.

Cam sniffed and brushed her tears away. “I just... started feeling like I was running out of time to have what I want in life and then you... you were so wonderful and I felt so blessed that you wanted me. And we were so good together; it was so easy and right. I thought...” She trailed off and shook her head.

She didn’t need to say it. He knew what she thought because he’d thought the same thing. That she was the one. That they were going to last. That in a few years it’d be a wedding and a house and a kid. The whole deal. It’s what he’d wanted. And it sounded like that had been what she’d wanted too.

“I thought...” she repeated, her eyes sliding off to the side as she tried to figure out how to say it.

Paul leaned forward. “I know, Cam. I know what you’re trying to say. And I’m there with you. I’ve always been there with you.”

Was that relief in her eyes? God, he wished he could kiss her. But their future was still undetermined. Just because she’d confided in him didn’t mean that’d she’d give him another chance.

She brushed away the rest of her tears and pulled in a long breath, exhaling it through her pursed lips. Paul watched as she gathered her composure. “I like enchiladas,” she finally said.

“What?” he asked.

“Enchiladas with red sauce, spicier the better. And Dos XX because you can’t have Mexican without beer.”

“Okay,” Paul replied, sitting back and trying to figure out where she was going with this sudden turn in the conversation.

“Your place on Tuesday. Eight o’clock since I have a class until seven.”

A date. She was talking about a date. He didn’t know the first think about enchiladas, but he’d learn quick. “Okay. Tuesday at eight. I’ll have enchiladas and Dos XX.”

“Good. I’ll turn my phone off,” she replied.

* * *

“What’d they say?” Sid asked, falling into step beside Paul as they walked down the hall.

“They said yes,” Paul replied. He really couldn’t believe it. Maybe it was because in his ten-year NHL career he’d never once asked for a personal day. He’d been injured and unable to play; he’d even been a healthy scratch. But he’d never asked for a personal day when he was fully capable of playing.

She’d said Tuesday they’d have dinner, and he’d eagerly agreed without even considering that they had a game on Tuesday night in Buffalo. He didn’t for one second think she was testing him because he knew she didn’t follow hockey. She had no idea he was obligated to play a game three hours north of his house that same night.

After making himself sick over calling her and rescheduling for Wednesday, he called Sid instead. Sid had encouraged him to talk to Coach and see if they would allow him the night off. And, miracle of miracles, management had agreed after two interviews with him. He’d been honest--that the future of his happiness depended on being in town on Tuesday night.

Sid clapped him on the back. “See, I told you. They know you’ve never done that so they took you seriously.”

“Yeah,” Paul replied. “Now I just need to figure out how to make enchiladas.”

“I got your back. Mel told me to drag your ass over to our place tonight. She swears she knows the best enchilada recipe ever.”

* * *

She was wearing a pair of jeans and a black long-sleeve shirt with the Pens logo in silver and pink crystals. It was tacky as hell, but it made him feel good that she’d worn it. His plate of food was only half-eaten because he kept looking over at her. She’d been a bit stiff when she’d arrived at his house, more reserved than she usually was, but after they’d started eating she had opened up a bit more.

“These are delicious, Paul. I didn’t know you were such a good cook.”

There was a spot of sauce right at the corner of her mouth. She licked it off with the tip of her tongue and smiled at him.

“Mel bailed me out. She taught me how to make them last night.”

“You’re a fast learner. And I like her a lot. What are she and Sid up to tonight?”

“Sid’s in Buffalo.”

She scooped up some rice. “What’s in Buffalo?”

Paul shrugged and cut his third enchilada into pieces. “A game. We’re playing them tonight.”

Cam stopped eating and glanced over at him from the stool she was perched on. “But you’re not playing? I thought you said you played almost every game.”

“Almost,” he agreed.

“Did you stay here for me?”

“I just told them I had plans and needed to be here.”

Cam put her fork down. “Paul, I... You could have just said you couldn’t make it until tomorrow.”

“You’re important to me, and I wanted to spend this time with you. It’s no big deal.” He smiled and plucked at the sleeve of her shirt. “But thanks for wearing your Pens gear on a game day.”

She looked down at the shirt and then up at him. “It’s cute, right?”

“It’s something,” Paul replied.

She smacked his arm. “It’s cute,” she confirmed. “I found it at this little place downtown while I was hanging flyers for the studio a few weeks ago.”

She didn’t continue, but he knew what was left unsaid. A few weeks ago when they were still good. When they were going on dates and falling in love. Is that what this was? Falling in love? And smacking his head on the way down because he was fighting it, probably.

“I like it,” Paul told her. “Get me one of those shirts with your dance studio on it and I’ll go advertise for you like you’re advertising for me.”

She laughed softly. “Thanks, professor Paul,” Cam said before tipping her beer back and emptying the last bit into her mouth.

He’d never been so happy to hear that nickname. It had to mean something. That she’d forgiven him, maybe? That they were back on track? Something good for sure.

“Can we watch the game on TV?”

Paul lifted his brows. Her request surprised him and it also made him feel warm inside. She was watching him, waiting for his answer. “If you want to.”

“Of course. You can give me the insider’s perspective.” Without warning, she stood up and gathered their plates in one hand and their empty beer bottles in the other. The plates went into the sink so she could rinse them off. Paul stared at her like she’d grown a second head as she ran the garbage disposal. “Where’s the recycling bin?” she asked, looking at him over her shoulder.

“Uh, in the garage by the door.”

She turned in a circle until she saw the door. He watched in awe as she opened it and dropped the two empty bottles into the bin with a clank. It felt surreal and weird and so fucking good. Like they were a couple and this was a usual Tuesday night. He cooked; she cleaned up. They’d watch some TV and then he’d take her upstairs so they could undress one another and make love.

Paul slipped off the stool and walked over to the end table in the living room to grab the remote and turn the TV on. It was already tuned to the right channel, but he turned the sound down low so they could talk.

“Find it?” he asked her when she walked over to the couch.

“Yeah, right where you said by the door.” Cam toed off her boots and folded one leg underneath her as she sat on the couch.

He sat down next to her, pressing their thighs together and throwing his arm behind her. “Is this okay?” he asked, looking down at her.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” she replied, leaning her head into the crook of his shoulder and resting her hand on his chest.

They watched the last few minutes of the second period like that. Paul wondered if she could hear his heart hammering in his chest.

* * *

She’d arrived at his house unsure of how things would play out. Their conversation on Monday had cleared up a lot of issues between them, but she was still hurt and still worried that he’d hurt her again. She feared after all that had been said between them, especially her confession that her clock was ticking and she’d entertained the notion of forever with him, that things would be awkward. The exact opposite was true. As soon as she was in his presence, she started relaxing. They fell into the same comfortable zone they’d been in before, partly because he made her feel so at home in his place.

Now they were on his couch, and she was in heaven with his arm around her shoulders. Cam took a deep breath and thought that maybe things were going to be okay after all.

“Is it tough to watch them and not actually play?” she asked. Instead of answering her immediately, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He couldn’t see the way she smiled at the simple touch, though.

“A little. But I’m glad I’m here with you.”

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” she replied.

He cleared his throat, and she closed her eyes as his voice rumbled from his chest. “Are we okay, Cam?”

“Yeah,” she said softly.

“Thank you,” he whispered, dropping another kiss on the crown of her head.

Cam turned her head to look up at him. “For what?” she asked.

He smiled and shook his head. “Everything. For forgiving my stupid mistake. For giving me another chance. For... being you. For making me better.” Each word was soft, gentle and reflected in the way he was looking down at her with his gorgeous eyes.

Cam slid her hand from his chest to his shoulder and then cupped his cheek with it. “I like the scruff,” she whispered, rubbing her fingertips over the prickly beginnings of his facial hair. “It’s kinda sexy.”

Turning his head, he pressed a sweet kiss into the center of her palm.

“Come here,” she said on an exhale. He knew exactly what she meant and bent his head down to kiss her on the lips. It was gentle and chaste, but Cam wanted more. “How do you feel about missing the third period?” she asked.

“Are you trying to take me to bed?” he asked with a grin.

“Mmm, hmm. That is very likely.”

“Good, I thought you’d never ask,” he said, standing and pulling her off the couch. She trailed behind him as he pulled her through the house by her hand. They climbed the stairs, and with each step she remembered his passion during the night they’d spent together. She couldn’t wait until they were naked and in his bed.

Cam paused when she stepped into his bedroom. He kept going, letting go of her hand. There were candles everywhere. Tea light candles bunched together on the center of each nightstand, pillar candles on the chest of drawers and dresser. A desk by the window held a line of small votives on a silver tray. They’d been burning for quite some time by the amount of wax that had melted down and pooled in the tray.

“Wow,” she said.

“I was hoping we’d end up here,” Paul said.

“Were you hoping to invite the fire department over, too?” Cam asked, trying to keep the grin off her face.

Paul started laughing. “No. Just trying to impress you.”

Cam stepped into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. “Consider me impressed, then.”

She watched as he picked up a remote. Miguel’s Use Me started playing softly from hidden speakers.

“Nice,” she said.

“Remember when you played this for me?” he asked, walking up to stand in front of her and unbutton his blue dress shirt.

She slid her arms behind her and braced herself as she leaned back. “I do. When you brought dinner to my studio that night.”

“It’s an amazing song,” Paul told her, letting the shirt fall off his shoulders and flutter to the floor.

“It is.” She licked her lips as he dropped his hand to unbutton the black slacks.

“It reminds me of you. Of that night.” He let his pants drop and stepped gracefully out of them. His feet were bare; they had been the entire evening. She’d even poked fun at him for cooking dinner in half a suit without socks when really she’d thought it was cute.

He lifted her right foot and pulled her sock off, then pulled the sock off her left foot. Cam swallowed as he reached forward and popped the button on her jeans. “It’s a beautiful song,” she agreed.

“There’s this part that always gets me,” Paul said, unzipping her and pulling the jeans down her legs. Cam lifted her hips to help him.

“What part is that?” she asked when he leaned over her half-reclined body and lifted the hem of her shirt up. Cam sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed again. He gently turned the shirt inside out as he pulled it over her head.

Paul dropped the garment to the floor and stepped closer, insinuating himself between her knees. “The part that talks about the moon pulling the tide,” he murmured, dragging his fingertips up and down her spine before popping the clasp on her bra.

Cam felt like she was in a dream as Paul dropped her bra to the floor. His pupils were dilated and he looked hungry, but not for food. It was overwhelming to be the object of such adoration and desire.

She licked her lips and said, “Don’t the waves pull the sand?”

He hooked his fingers into the hips of her panties and slid them down her legs. “Don’t the moon pull the tide?” he added before completing the lyric with, “I’m yours.”

It was so vague and yet so perfect and true. Inevitability. Yielding to something bigger than yourself. Giving up control. Acceptance. Falling in love. “I’m yours,” she repeated, pushing his boxers down until they fell the rest of the way to the floor.

She moved back onto the middle of the bed when he crawled onto it. Before he could get the upper hand, she grabbed his shoulders and pushed down. His back hit the mattress, his eyes wide and clear and watching her in what looked like awe. His naked desire was tempered with genuine affection. Possibly the beginnings of love.

“Danger in your eyes, baby, you can devour me, defile me,” she said, whispering her favorite lyric in his ear before dragging the tip of her tongue around the shell of it and then down the length of his neck.

“Cam,” he said, his voice choked and breathless.

She ignored him and let her lips brush across his shoulder and chest before pressing three kisses down the middle of his stomach and abdomen. He was already hard and ready for her, but she couldn’t resist taking him in her hand and covering the tip of his cock with her mouth. Paul’s hand went to her head as he gently lifted his hips up. She lowered her mouth until her gag reflex kicked in, and then she sucked him as she lifted her head. She repeated that three more times before she looked up and saw his head was tilted back and pressed hard into the mattress, the veins in his neck visible.

The music and the candles and the soft noises of appreciation and desire he was making all created a dream-like state. She felt drunk on him and what they were doing. The past two weeks faded into the static of her life and the only thing that existed was her and him and the way he was making her feel like the most cherished woman in the world.

“I could do this forever,” she murmured, moving up his body and throwing her leg over his hip to straddle him. Before he opened his eyes, she had guided him inside and settled down to enjoy the way he felt as he stretched her.

She threw her head back when he grabbed her hips. “Me too,” he finally replied. And then he reached up and took both sides of her face in his hands, pulling her down so he could kiss her. It was like riding a bike. Two weeks of nothing and yet she fell back into his kisses like it had been seconds.

Paul flipped them, rolling her until she was on her back. All she could see was his face just a few inches above hers, his eyes open and staring down like she was his everything in that moment. And all she could feel was his hard body pinning her to the bed and the way each thrust filled her up until her breath caught in her throat.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. There weren’t any words for this emotion, this release. He pressed his forehead to hers, running his arms under her back to hold her as he rocked into her with each stroke. This was in no way sex. It was absolutely nothing less than making passionate love. And he was amazing at it, never moving his gaze away from her eyes, even with the scant distance between them.

It felt like a promise of a life to come. A promise to help provide what she’d found lacking in her life. It made her heart fill up with love for him. Who knew back when she’d silently watched him sipping dark roast over in the corner chair that he was the one? In that moment, her past life, her failed marriage, her old career were all distant memories that no longer mattered. Now it was only her true passions--the studio and Paul. Definitely Paul.

He finally brushed his mouth over hers before kissing her fully, completely. She moaned into this mouth when he dragged his hands down her body, exploring her breasts, her shoulders, her stomach. Paul pushed himself up to kneel between her legs, his hips still thrusting back and forth, never breaking the rhythm that he’d set.

She looked down and watched his fingertips glide the rest of the way down her stomach and abdomen. Gently, he grazed the course hair between her legs until the tip of his index finger dipped in to touch her clit. “Paul,” she cried out, lifting her hips.

He carefully rubbed it again, sliding his finger up with every thrust in and down each time he pulled back. It took him less than six strokes to have her screaming his name. And the minute she did, her muscles clamping down on him as he continued to work her, he lowered himself and aligned their bodies so they were touching everywhere when he came inside her.

“Oh, Cam,” he whispered as he caught his breath. She could feel the hard rise and fall of his chest against hers. Or was that her chest pressing against his that was moving so rapidly?

“I think I’ll keep you,” she said with a smile, running her fingers through his ginger hair.

Paul chuckled softly and rolled onto his side to face her. Cam turned into him so he could pull her closer. “I’m glad,” he said, kissing her forehead and then her lips.

* * *

(20 months later)

Paul was late. He’d promised her he’d be home from the team meeting by six. It was already fifteen after according to his phone. While he was stopped at a red light, he pulled out his phone. She was smiling back at him from his wallpaper. In the picture she had a white dress on, sand between her bare toes, and blue ocean spread out behind her. He remembered when the picture was taken four months ago. He’d been standing just out of the shot in a tux because they’d said their vows and gotten married on the beach minutes before.

Cam had thought the pictures were silly, but everyone, especially her mother, had insisted. Paul remembered cracking some stupid joke and making her laugh so the photographer could get that shot of her. It was Paul’s favorite because that smile was for him only.

He dialed her number and she answered on the first ring. “Running late?” she asked.

“Good God, Cam. You’re psychic,” he said in feigned shock.

“Hurry up, smartass. You’re messing up my plans.”

“Did you get Ella to cover for you at the studio tonight?” he asked. In the past six months she’d hired an old friend she’d went to school with to teach classes at the studio. When Cam wanted time off or needed to go out of town, Ella stepped up and took over Cam’s classes in addition to her own.

“Yeah, hurry up.”

“Hey,” he said, “I love you.”

“I love you more. Hurry up,” she replied.

He smiled at her impatience and hung up the phone. Traffic was moving again, and he was less than five minutes from their house. It used to be his house, but now it was their house. And he couldn’t have been happier. Except, he had no idea what she was in such a hurry for. They’d planned on going to dinner together to celebrate the first time he’d walked into her Starbucks two years ago, but their reservations weren’t until seven-thirty. That was over an hour away.

Four minutes later, he pulled open the door between the garage and kitchen and stepped inside. She was sitting on one of the stools at the breakfast bar with a weird look on her face, but she still looked beautiful in her little black dress with her hair up. He walked over and pulled on a loose tendril of hair. “Hey you,” he said, leaning down for a kiss.

She kissed him back and then pushed him away. “Go on. Put your keys in the drawer.”

Paul gave her a quizzical look. “Uh, we’re leaving in less than a hour. Why am I putting them in the drawer?”

“You always put your keys in the drawer at night.”

“But we’re going to dinner in a few minutes.”

Cam rolled her eyes at him, grabbing his tie and pulling him in for another kiss. “Just do it,” she said when she released him.

Paul shook his head at her, but did what he was told. In the drawer, right where he always left his keys, was a folded sheet of paper. [i]Call the fire marshall[/i], was written neatly across the middle of the sheet in her handwriting.

“What’s this?” he asked.

Cam smiled. “A scavenger hunt.”

Paul chuckled. “I don’t get it. Call the fire marshall?”

“Come on. Remember when you missed the game because I made you cook me dinner to apologize?”

“I do,” Paul said.

“So, think back. Call the fire marshall. Where do I want you to go?”

He thought back to that night. It had been amazing. One of the best nights of his life because he’d finally realized that she was everything he wanted. And that night he’d lit way too many candles in his bedroom and she’d made a joke about it before they’d made love.

“Candles?” he asked her.

Cam squealed and jumped off the stool. “Well?” she said, “Go find them.”

He took the steps two at a time to their bedroom where he found the silver tray with four pillar candles that she kept by the bed. Propped against them was another clue. She was standing in the doorway with a grin on her face as he read it and went off in search of the next item on her blast-from-the-past tour of their first few dates.

There were five clues in all. The final clue had directed him to her phone. It just said, [I]I almost broke us up.[/i] There was no question that was her cell. She liked to keep it in her back pocket when she wore jeans, but she was in a little black dress tonight. And her hands were behind her back. Paul walked up to her and reached around to search her for the phone. It was clenched in her fist. While he extracted the phone, he used the opportunity to grab her ass with his other hand and give her a good, long kiss. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth, making him growl and kiss her all over again.

When he finally pulled away, he had her phone in his hand, but there was no clue taped to it. No note.

“Go on,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

Paul pressed the button at the top to wake the screen up. Her wallpaper had been changed. Just below the clock and the weather there were three words in black text.

[i]Boy or Girl?[/i]

He read them three times and then looked up at her. “What?” he asked.

Cam’s face was expectant, excited, glowing. And then he realized what she was trying to tell him.

“You’re... Are you pregnant?” His voice sounded strange saying those words.

She nodded her head quickly, chewing on her lower lip.

“Oh my God, Cam,” he said on a huge exhale. As he pulled in a deep breath, he reached out and pulled her into his arms. “Are you serious? You’re not joking, right?”

“Totally not joking.”

“I can’t believe it,” he mumbled into her hair. His emotions were running high. He’d thought the scavenger hunt was going to lead to some silly card or joke, not a life-changing piece of information. They’d been trying since the wedding and he’d started to worry that it wouldn’t happen even though the doctor told them that those things always take time. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” she replied, holding him tighter. “So, what do you think? Boy or girl?”

Paul didn’t know and didn’t care. All that mattered is that he was going to be a dad. “Boy,” he said just to tease her. “And he’ll play hockey.”

Cam laughed. “Girl,” she responded. “And she’ll take over my dance studio.”

“And play hockey,” Paul added with a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this fic! I'd love to hear from you if you did.


End file.
